


An Unexpected Meeting

by birdybirdnerd



Series: An Unexpected Meeting [1]
Category: Pendragon - D. J. MacHale
Genre: AU where the war goes on longer than it did in the books, Angst, Depression, First Time, Fluff, Gift for a friend, I'll add tags as I go along, Kinda sorta song fic?, Loves me some Emotional Strife, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdybirdnerd/pseuds/birdybirdnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU</p><p>The war for Halla has been going on a lot longer than planned, and poor Bobby seriously needs a break. But when he takes the night off to visit a bar, he comes across the most surprising patron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first smutty thing I've ever written. This was a gift for JMProfio over on fanfiction . net, back when he was about to leave for Navy basic training. I actually decided to continue it, but this bit can be read alone. The rest might take some time to arrive. 
> 
> Beta'd, as always, by my dear alphaonefourzero (lordsmellymort on here)

Bobby swerved out to the side of his lane, honking his horn and yelling obscenities. The other driver continued as they were, half in their lane and half in his. They managed to pass each other without incident, and Bobby carefully felt around for where his phone had fallen to the floorboard during the panic. He grabbed it and sat back up.

Courtney was frantic. “ _What was that? Are you okay? What happened?_ ”

“I’m fine,” Bobby replied, still sort of shaky from the brief shot of adrenaline. “There was just some idiot not paying attention to where he was going. Probably drunk,” he added, irritated.

“ _Those people, I swear._ ” There was a shuffling sound from the other end of the line, and Courtney huffed. “ _You better not do that tonight, mister. I’ll kick your ass seven ways to Solara if I find out you’ve been drunk driving._ ”

Bobby laughed, strained. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I wasn’t planning on having more than a single drink tonight. I’m going more for the atmosphere.” He cast his eyes down, his voice softer. “I need a break, from all this. Just for a bit.”

“ _I understand, Bobby. I do,_ ” Courtney said in a soothing voice. He could tell she was feeling somewhat the same way he was. “ _We all need a break.”_

This stupid war had been going on too long. Every time it seemed the Travelers had the upper hand against Saint Dane, he revealed another twist in his plan that set them back a step. It had been years, and everyone was sick of it all. The only consolation they had was that Saint Dane didn’t seem to be getting all that much further ahead than they were. They were at a standstill, but neither side could give up.

That’s why Bobby was taking the night off. He had turned twenty-one last week, and decided he needed a break. All these years of stress and worry had really taken a toll on him, and he wasn’t in the best of places. Both his friends _and_ the other Travelers were worried for him, so the other day, Uncle Press came up to Bobby and told him to take a day off.

“Don’t worry about being the lead Traveler,” he had said. “You just came of age. Go out one night sometime soon and have fun. You of all people need a rest.”

Bobby really hadn’t wanted to at the time, thinking they needed all the help they could get, but apparently Press had all the other Travelers on his side with him. Bobby had taken one look at their faces and caved. He could see that they were worried for him, and that if he kept at the rate he was going, he’d run himself into the ground before he stopped. He hated to admit it to himself, but they were right.

He wasn’t regretting his decision. He’d hung out at the Ave for the better part of the day, and gone to see a movie with Mark and Courtney. He tried to keep it a calm and relaxing day, thinking that would be better for his fried nerves, but he soon realized he’d become conditioned to the constant excitement and was quickly getting bored. He’d had fun, but when evening rolled around, he’d insisted his two friends go home and let him go out by himself. They protested, thinking he was just going to go get himself back in trouble, but Bobby convinced them he was just going out to the nearby bar for some fun. Turning twenty-one had its perks.

Bobby shook himself out of his thoughts before they could turn down a darker path and concentrated on his driving. He was almost at the little bar he planned to spend his night at.

“Hey, Courtney?” he asked. “If I do get a little drunker than planned, you wouldn’t mind coming and picking me up, would you?”

“ _Of course I wouldn’t mind, stupid,”_ she replied, exasperated. He could hear the smile in her voice. “ _I_ am _your friend, right?”_

Bobby chuckled. “Yeah, why’d I even ask. Thanks.” He pulled into the small parking lot and turned the car off. “Gotta go,” he said. “See you later.”

_“Have fun, nerd. But not too much fun!_ ”

“Bye.”

_“Bye._ ”

He hung up and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The engine clicked, cooling off quickly in the cool winter air. Bobby sat in silence for a moment. _No time like the present,_ he thought.

He got out and locked his car doors, then shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before they could freeze. His breath came out in white clouds and he shuffled quickly towards the doors. He hadn’t prepared himself enough for this sharp weather, expecting to be outside only a few moments before finding himself in the heat of the nightclub. The bouncer checked Bobby’s ID, then nodded, signaling that he was free to enter.

The noise assaulted his ears as soon as he stepped inside. One of the latest pop songs was playing, the bass reverberating throughout the crowded room, making his chest pound. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust in the flashing strobe lights, and when they did, Bobby headed straight for the bar set to the side of the dance floor. He found an empty seat in between a couple making out noisily and another man passed out, his head in his arms and a couple empty shots glasses in front of him. Bobby squeezed in and waved the bartender over.

The bartender was a tall woman with the spiky green hair. She walked over, setting a cocktail she had just finished making down next to another patron. “What can I get you, sir?” she asked, popping her bubble gum.

Bobby picked up one of the small menus and looked through it. He’d tried some of these before with Mark and Courtney, but only a few of the names were familiar. What he really wanted was a fresh glass of sniggers, straight from Grolo’s, but that was a bit out of the question. “White Russian, please,” he finally ordered. “Extra vodka.” The bartender nodded and left.

Bobby sighed and examined the selection displayed behind the bar, idly listening to the music playing. He felt the man to his left shift; not asleep, apparently. He was going to ignore him as he was ignoring the messy couple on his other side, until the man spoke.

“Bad… heh, bad night, eh Pendragon?”

Bobby immediately went on high alert. Not that many people knew he existed here, and almost none of those people called him by his last name. The voice was familiar, but it slurred from a rough night. He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, trying to determine who he was. The man’s head was still in his arms, long hair obscuring what might have been visible.

“Who are you, and how do you know me?” Bobby finally asked.

The man giggled, a high-pitched and slightly unbalanced sound. “Why, how could you p-possibly forget _me_?” He raised his head, and Bobby leaped away.

Saint Dane.

“What are you doing here?!” Bobby shouted, drawing the attention of a few people at the bar. The couple paused in their activities, glancing at him, before continuing. The bartender sent him a death glare from across the bar for disturbing her patrons. Bobby lowered his voice, but kept his fists clenched and ready. “What the _hell_ is your problem? What are you doing here?!” he repeated.

Dane giggled again, very much out of character, and twirled his finger around the lip of one of his shot glasses. Bobby realized with a start that the man was completely plastered. Could Saint Dane even _get_ plastered?

“Same as you, I guess,” the demon said. It took Bobby a moment to realize that it was in response to his question. “I needed a break.” Bobby was confused. Why would Saint Dane need a break from anything? He was the _villain_ , for Halla’s sake! Villains didn’t just take breaks from being evil!

“Oh, get that stick outta your ass, boy,” Dane said after Bobby had been glowering at the demon for a minute. “I’m not gonna bite.” Bobby was startled that Dane would use such vulgar language. He always seemed so poised and put together. Bobby slowly sat back down, keeping as much distance as possible between them. He stared suspiciously at Saint Dane, wondering as to what his intentions were.

Dane called the bartender over again. She grabbed something on her way there and set it down in front of him, then walked away without a word. It was another shot glass filled with a rich amber liquid, that Dane tipped back and swallowed in a single gulp. The number of glasses already in front of him and how the bartender didn’t even need to ask what he wanted spoke volumes about how long Dane had been here. Bobby briefly worried about how much alcohol the man had ingested, before mentally slapping himself. This was Saint Dane he was talking about! His arch-nemesis! Why would he be worrying about that demon’s health?

They sat in awkward silence until the bartender brought over Bobby’s finished drink. He debated leaving it there, not wanting to risk getting even the least bit inebriated in front of his worst enemy, but decided that he was paying good money for this stuff and wasn’t gonna let it go to waste. He took small, careful sips, keeping an eye on the demon slumped on the counter next to him.

The pressing silence between them became too much, until Bobby felt he was ready to explode. He considered finishing his drink and just going home, but didn’t want to leave the demon here to his own devices. Who knows what he would do? Granted, he didn’t look like he could take two straight steps in his current state, but Bobby was partly convinced it was all an act.

He heard Dane humming next to him, and was startled to notice he was humming along to the song that was playing. Bobby cocked an ear and almost laughed out loud when he heard ‘ _It’s Gonna be Me’_.

“You listen to N’Sync?” he asked incredulously.

Saint Dane shrugged, then began stacking his glasses with one hand while resting his chin on the other. “Living on Second Earth so long, you hear a lot of music,” he slurred. “I prefer classical, but I don’t think they play that here…” He looked thoughtful, then got this devilish grin on his face. It would have been more effective had he not been slightly cross-eyed, but the point was made and Bobby was concerned.”I could always bribe the DJ!”

“No.” Bobby shoved Dane back in his seat as he went to stand. The man was so unbalanced he went down easily. He glared at Bobby halfheartedly, but didn’t protest. He just went back to playing with his empty shot glasses.

Bobby stared at the man. Saint Dane was _not_ acting like himself. Years of battling him had taught Bobby that Saint Dane never gave up, and trying to keep him from his goals would end badly for everyone involved. Even for something as little as refusing to let him ‘bribe’ the DJ, normally, Dane would have blasted Bobby off his feet and stormed away to do what he wanted.

“Okay, seriously, dude,” Bobby said. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not acting like yourself. Not that I’m complaining,” he added quickly, “I’m just really confused right now. And concerned. But not for you. Er…” He trailed off at Dane’s unchanging expression. He was about to wave his hand in front of the man’s face, thinking he’d maybe fallen asleep with his eyes open or something, when Saint Dane turned his head in his arms to look up.

“I’m tired, Bobby,” he mumbled. He looked… vulnerable. It was a strange expression to see on his face. “I’m so tired. Of this battle. Of constantly losing. Of trying so hard, yet ultimately failing, no matter what I’ve done. I’m so tired of everything.” He was shaking. Bobby watched, horrified and slightly astonished, as his worst enemy broke down little by little in front of him.

“I’ve tried so hard for so long,” he whimpered. “I’ve been _so close_ to winning, but you Travelers always have to get in my way.” He tried to spit the words out venomously, but the crack in his voice ruined the already fragile facade. “Now I’m on the edge of failure, with nothing left to go back to if I lose.”

Bobby should have felt jubilant at the admission that they were finally winning, that Saint Dane was almost beaten. But he just felt… a kind of sadness. His once-great enemy, the guy he’d had nightmares about for years, was nothing more than a sobbing mess, drinking himself to death at a dingy little Second Earth bar. It was pitiful.

“Hey, man-” Bobby began. He didn’t know what he’d say. How could he comfort the demon? He was _literally_ trying to destroy the universe, not to mention having tortured Bobby and his friends for years. He didn’t get a chance to do anything, before he saw Saint Dane fiddling with something in his lap.

“There’s no use in it all,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Bobby stared, shocked, as Saint Dane positioned something long and metallic under his chin. “I’m so, _so_ , tired…”

“ _NO!”_

Bobby panicked and grabbed the gun, wrestling it out of the demon’s grasp. Dane’s hands were shaking as he lost his grip on the weapon, and his head fell to the table with an anguished cry. He completely broke down then, shoulders heaving with every sob.

Bobby’s hands were unsteady as well, his breathing labored. He stared at the gun, disbelieving at what he almost just witnessed. He didn't even stop to wonder where the gun came from. No matter how much he hated the man, he couldn’t just sit there as he _killed_ himself!

“ _What the hell?!_ ” Bobby shouted. His voice was higher than normal, adrenaline still spiked. The bartender and the other patrons glared at him again, but this time he didn’t care. He did have enough sense to hide the gun under the table, out of view, but that was it. “W-what the hell was that, man?! Don’t do that to me!” He felt like throwing up.

Dane covered his head with his arms again, still trembling. Bobby went against all his instincts and scooted closer to the demon, laying a hesitant hand on his arm. Dane flinched away, but didn’t move very far. Other than that, he ignored Bobby and continued to cry.

_“W-why?”_

Bobby nearly missed the muffled question amidst the pounding music, asked so softly it was barely a whisper. “Why what?” he asked, though he already knew what Dane was talking about. He needed a moment to process his answer.

“Why stop me?” Saint Dane raised his tear-stained face and looked directly at him. Bobby’s breath caught at the look of pure despair in the man’s watery blue eyes. “Don’t you want it to end? Don’t you want me gone?”

“W-well, yeah, I want the war to end,” Bobby stammered. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? “And, and you are kind of a dick-” _big_ understatement “-b-but that doesn’t mean you should kill yourself!”

Dane shook his head incredulously. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he asked. “There is _nothing_ left for me. Nothing! After this, after you Travelers win, where do I go? What do I _do_? I’ll just fade out of existence!” He pushed Bobby’s hand off his shoulder and looked down, nearly curling in on himself. “You’ve already won, just let me have this one last thing. _Please._ ”

“No.” Dane looked back up at his forceful tone. Bobby was not having any of this. He had stopped caring that this was his worst enemy. He had stopped caring that this was the scourge of everything he and his fellow Travelers had been working for for years. He had stopped caring about all that, and only cared about the depressed man in front of him, right here, right now, who needed his help.

“Look, I don’t know as much about all this as I’d like to, but I do know one thing: suicide is _never_ an option.” Dane looked like he was going to protest, but Bobby plunged on. “Besides, you’ll get the same result either way. One just has more pain and mess involved.”

Saint Dane sneered at him. “You’re terrible at this. I thought you were trying to _prevent_ me from ending my life.”

Bobby shrugged, strained. “Hey, man, there’s no denying you’ve done some pretty screwed up stuff in your life. I’m just saying that, if you think you don’t have much time left, you should, uh, make the most of it? You might even have fun.” _I can’t believe I’m consoling my arch-nemesis_.

Dane put his head back in his arms, hiding his face, and ignored Bobby. Bobby sighed. He was _really_ bad at this. He fiddled with the gun in his lap, turning the safety back on. He couldn’t believe how close he’d been to witnessing a man blow his brains out. His hands still trembled. Bobby slid the gun into an inside pocket in his jacket and made a mental note to dispose of it when he got home, then took a sip of his White Russian.

“You know,” he said after a minute. “I think I kinda _do_ understand where you’re coming from.” He heard Dane scoff, but ignored it and continued. “Not fully, of course. But a little bit. That’s the whole reason I came here tonight. To forget.”

He was staring at one of the many bottles behind the bar, but saw Saint Dane look up in his peripheral vision. “We’ve been at a standstill with you for so long, we were losing hope. _I_ was losing hope. I-” His voice cracked. Bobby self-consciously cleared his throat. “The other Travelers were worried about me. I’d been working so hard lately, talking so little. Alder told me how he’d rarely seen me smile these past couple years.” Bobby trailed off, suddenly overcome with emotion. He realized just how much his friends had been worrying about him. He shook his head slightly and turned to smile at Saint Dane. “So I came here to get drunk! Just don’t tell Courtney.” He raised his glass to his lips.

Dane chuckled, and mumbled under his breath ”I’m telling _moooooom_.” Bobby choked, spewing alcohol across the table. He grabbed some napkins and wiped it away hurriedly, smiling as Dane cackled hysterically. The laughter was infectious, and soon Bobby joined him. The two leaned against each other, breathless with mirth. Bobby covered his mouth and coughed, trying to clear his lungs of the burning liquid, but he was laughing to hard to do much more than giggle into the napkin.

Given enough dirty looks by the people around them, they soon calmed down. Saint Dane sniffed and scrubbed at his face, rubbing away tear tracks, while Bobby cleaned up the rest of the spilled alcohol. He swirled his glass, smiling at the little bit left, and made a decision. He downed the rest and grabbed Saint Dane’s arm.

“Come on, man. Time to have some fun,” he said. Dane looked bewildered, but didn’t resist as Bobby pulled him to his feet. They navigated towards one of the walls of the club, where there were fewer people. Everyone was pressed together on the dance floor, jumping and screaming to whatever was playing, but the people on this end were more into light dancing and chatting. Bobby pulled the demon aside and turned towards him. Then he ran into a slight problem.

“Uh, dude?” he asked timidly.

Saint Dane looked down. “What?”

Bobby’s ears burned. “Do you, um, do you even know how to dance?”

“Of course,” Dane scoffed. “I practically _invented_ the waltz. I’ve been hanging around Second Earth a lot longer than you think.”

“Yeah, but I mean, do you know how to _dance_?”

He glared. “What, is waltzing not good enough for you?”

Bobby shrugged. “It’s fine and all, it’s just, this isn’t really the place to be waltzing.”

Dane huffed and crossed his arms. “It never is anymore,” he grumbled. He looked about ready to go sit back down, but Bobby was determined to make this man forget his problems, at least for a night. He planned to try and do the same thing for himself, but both of those things would be hard to do with one of the participants sitting at the bar, moping.

“No you don’t,” Bobby said as Dane turned to leave. He grabbed the older man’s arm and pulled him close. Dane still had quite a few inches on Bobby, but Bobby was a lot taller than he’d been several years ago. He barely had to tilt his head to look Saint Dane directly in the eye. “You’re staying right here, and you’re gonna have fun if it kills me.”

Dane clenched his teeth and looked off to the side, avoiding Bobby’s gaze. He mumbled something that sounded like “That would be nice”, but it was lost in the loud music of the club.

Bobby knew the awkwardness would only get worse if neither of them did anything, so he decided to start swaying. His grip on the demon’s arm loosened slightly, and Bobby’s hand slid down until it found Dane’s. He laced their fingers together and raised their clasped hands up a bit, then moved his other hand until it was resting on Saint Dane’s shoulder. The man subconsciously mimicked Bobby’s position, placing his free hand on Bobby's hip. They swayed side to side, not really dancing, Dane still refusing to look in his arch-nemesis’ eyes.

The song ended and was replaced with another, this one more familiar to Bobby. He smirked and pressed closer, speeding up the tempo of their swaying. Dane looked mildly panicked, to Bobby's amusement, so he added to the embarrassment by singing along.

_"Oh, don't you dare look back,_

_Just keep your eyes on me,_

_I said 'You're holding back',_

_She said 'Shut up, and dance with me',"_

He spun Dane around, the man almost tripping over his feet at the sudden movement.

_"This woman is my destiny,_

_She said 'Oh, oh,_

_Shut up and dance with me!'"_

The strobe lights went out, except for faint red ones near the DJ's stand. The couple was thrown into shadow. Bobby felt laughter bubble up in his chest at the way Dane's grip on his hand and hip tightened. His head felt light and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The lights slowly started brightening again, and Bobby saw that the other was smiling just as widely. To his surprise, he was singing too.

" _We were victims of the night,_

_The chemical, physical, kryptonite,"_

He pulled Bobby close and leaned down.

" _Helpless to the bass, and the fading light,_

_Oh, we were bound to get together,_

_Bound to get together!"_

Bobby grabbed both Saint Dane's hands in his and spun the both of them around. At this point he wasn't even thinking of what he was doing, wasn't even thinking of the fact that he was getting a lot closer to Saint Dane than was good. He didn't care anymore. It was also probably the influence of what he’d been drinking, but who knows. Bobby sang along, near breathless.

" _She took my arm,_

_I don't know how it happened,_

_We took the floor and I said:"_

Bobby watched his dance partner let loose. Saint Dane's inhibitions about 'proper dancing' were gone, and he bounced to the music much the same way anyone else in the club was. His wild black hair kept getting in his face, so Bobby kept having to push it back for him. He was finally having fun, all bad thoughts from earlier gone, for the most part.

_"Oh don't you dare look back,_

_Just keep your eyes on me,_

_I said 'You're holding back',_

_She said 'Shut up and dance with me!'_

_This woman is my destiny,_

_She said 'Oh, oh!_

_Shut up and dance with me!'"_

By the time the first chorus ended, they were back in each other's arms. All the stiff awkwardness from earlier was gone, and the two were high on emotion. Bobby spun and ended up with his back pressed to Saint Dane's chest, bodies swaying side to side. He felt the taller man's arms encircle his waist, and without thinking, rocked his hips back to tease him. Saint Dane made a noise low in his throat and shifted. Bobby suddenly jumped when he felt warm lips press into his neck. He shivered as Dane's hot breath ghosted across his flushed skin, the smell of tequila hanging in the air between them. He almost missed the next verse, but gasped it out in time.

_"A backless dress, and some beat up sneaks,_

_My discotheque, Juliet, teenage dream,"_

Dane whispered the rest of the line into Bobby's neck, and he almost melted.

" _I felt it in my chest, as he looked at me,_

_We were bound to be together,_

_Bound to be together!"_

Bobby gripped Saint Dane's hands where they rested on his stomach hard enough to bruise. He felt the entire length of the demon's body molded along his back, swaying perfectly to the beat of the music.

" _She took my arm,_

_I don't know how it happened,_

_We took the floor and I said:_

_Oh don't you dare look back,_

_Just keep your eyes on me_

_I said 'You're holding back'_

_She said 'Shut up and dance with me!'_

_This woman is my destiny,_

_She said 'Oh, oh!_

_Shut up and dance with me!'"_

One of the hands on his stomach crept under his shirt and brushed the sensitive skin of Bobby's hip. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks, but any coherent thought he might have made was lost in the heat of the moment. He simply moaned and threw his head back on Dane's shoulder. Saint Dane bared his teeth and nipped Bobby's neck, smoothing the sting with his tongue. His licked and sucked his way upwards, leaving faint bite marks sure to fade before the night's conclusion.

Bobby felt Dane's hand inch lower, little finger slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans. The spot behind his ear was being assaulted, and the tall demon was still leaning most of his weight against him, his body overheated. The combination of sensations was nearly overwhelming, and Bobby felt he was barely holding on to his sanity.

It became too much. Bobby suddenly turned to face the other, ripping Saint Dane away from his ministrations in the process. The demon didn't have time to look confused before Bobby grabbed his face and yanked him down.

Their mouths met in a painful and awkward clash of teeth. Bobby pulled away quickly, hissing from the rough start, but Dane followed and pressed their lips together again. He bit down harshly on Bobby's lower lip, forcing his way into a rough kiss. Bobby felt he should be alarmed or disturbed or at the very least, cautious, but the demon's heady scent was going straight to his already buzzing head.

Bobby tangled his fingers in his enemy's long dark hair and pulled, inciting a deep moan. He pulled again, pushing forward with his body, grinding against the demon's hip and testing his limits.

That, apparently, had been the exact _right_ thing to do.

"Is that a gun in your pocket," Dane growled into Bobby's ear, "or are you just happy to see me?"

Bobby shivered, embarrassed. He suddenly felt self-conscious about what they were doing and went to pull away, but Dane stopped him in his tracks. His hands slid down Bobby's back until they were cupping his ass. Bobby felt light-headed, his heart racing, as he looked into Saint Dane's eyes. Their ice blue color was almost fully taken over by overblown pupils, dark with lust.

"You're mine now."

With that, Saint Dane ground their hips together. Bobby was unprepared and choked on a moan. Their song had ended long ago, but neither were really paying attention, more caught up in the feelings the other's body produced in their own. Dane captured Bobby’s lips again, devouring his mouth and pressing ever closer.

Bobby felt the hard metal of the gun dig into his chest, pulling him slightly out of his arousal-induced haze. He blinked rapidly in the harsh flashing lights of the club. Saint Dane was still rocking against him, but Bobby realized the gravity of the situation they were in and pressed a hand to his chest, forcing him to stop.

"H-hey," he gasped, breathing still uneven. "We really need to think this through. Are we actually gonna do this?"

Saint Dane took a moment to clear his head. He must have realized the same thing. He'd been staring at their feet, but when he met Bobby's eyes, there was a spark of desperation in their depths.

"Please," he whispered. "Help me forget."

He went to kiss Bobby again, but was stopped. "Are you sure, man?" Bobby asked. "You've had a lot to drink. You might not be thinking straight."

Dane laughed. "Yes, I have had many more shots of tequila tonight than any normal creature of Halla should consume," he admitted, "but you forget who exactly I am. I'm still a spirit of Solara. I can still make conscious decisions, even when my physical form is inebriated."

Bobby was still hesitant, but Saint Dane's logic was sound. "Well, come on then." He grabbed the demon's hand and pulled him away from the dance floor. Bobby couldn't believe he was doing this. He was actually considering sleeping with with his worst enemy! Man, he had hit a new all-time low. No time to worry about that though.

Bathroom was out. Bobby had never had sex in a public bathroom before and he wasn't planning on starting tonight; who knew how filthy a nightclub bathroom would be. He veered away from there and was hit with an idea. With Saint Dane's hand clasped firmly in his, he stumbled past the bouncer and outside.

His head pounded from the sudden lack of noise. The music from the club was almost gone out here. Inside, the press and heat of bodies had left the nightclub stiflingly warm, while out here, the sharp Connecticut winter chill cut through to their very bones. The temperature difference sent goosebumps raising along their arms. Bobby shivered. He felt Saint Dane huddle close behind him and knew that the demon was just as cold.

The bouncer called after them. "Hey, make sure you guys don't drive tonight!" Bobby waved to indicate that he heard the man, and kept walking. He pulled Dane along to where he had parked his car and fished the keys out of his pocket. He had to let go of the demon's hand to do so, and Dane wrapped his arms around himself to preserve heat.

"Where are we going?" Dane asked. "Weren't you just told not to drive in your current state? Because I'm not driving you home either."

Bobby smirked. "We're not going anywhere." He unlocked the car and opened the back door, gesturing for Saint Dane to enter. The demon looked a the open door, confused, then looked at Bobby. He blushed as he realized the implications. "Oh," he said in a small voice.

Bobby pushed him into the backseat and followed, closing the door behind them. The light went off, plunging the two into darkness. A streetlight across the road gave little illumination, but it was enough to see the dark figure huddled over himself next to Bobby. He considered turning the car on to start some heating, but didn't want to have to awkwardly climb over the front seat to reach it. He pulled the gun out of his jacket and tossed it in the front passenger seat, then shrugged the jacket off and dropped it too.

They sat there, staring at one another in the dim light. As Bobby's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Saint Dane looked hesitant. Now that they were out of the nightclub, he could tell the demon was having second thoughts. Bobby was starting to feel the same way.

"So, uh..." Bobby tried to break the silence. "How- I mean, how do you wanna do this?" He moved, brushing up against Dane's arm. The demon leaned into the touch, avoiding looking Bobby in the eye. He didn't answer. Bobby took a deep breath and leaned forward.

This kiss was a lot sweeter than the one they shared on the dance floor. It wasn't rushed, and though the heat was still there, it was more passionate than bestial. He tilted Saint Dane's head to the side and nudged his lips open, slipping his tongue into the older man's mouth. Dane sighed and shifted, turning more towards Bobby and allowing him to press closer.

They pushed and pulled, a slow and subdued dance, leaving rational thoughts behind. Bobby leaned closer, laying a hand on Saint Dane's shoulder, pushing him back until he got the hint and laid down. They stretched out across the backseat, their mouths only disconnecting briefly for short breaths, before joining again. Bobby felt himself slipping off the edge of the seat and moved, lifting himself above Saint Dane and settling down with his knees on either side of the other man's hips.

He opened his eyes slowly and leaned back, taking in the sight of the man beneath him. Saint Dane's hair was in wild disarray, fanned out on the seat like a dark, twisting halo. His eyes were dark with lust, only a thin circle of shining blue still visible. He was panting, looking up from under half-lidded eyes, his skin flushed and heated, clothes in disarray.

"Beautiful," Bobby whispered, almost without thinking.

He felt the demon's hands slide up his waist, pulling lightly but insistently. Bobby rolled his hips, inciting a groan from the older man. Dane's fingers dug into the other's hip bones, and he pushed up, trying to get more of that friction. Bobby obliged, grinding down even as he leaned forward to taste the demon's sweat-slicked skin. They no longer felt the cold, the heat radiating off their bodies enough to warm the whole car. They didn’t speak apart from pants and moans.

Bobby slid down the demon's body, using his knee to nudge the other's legs apart. He settled more comfortably between Saint Dane's long legs. He slowly dragged himself forward on his elbows, looking Dane directly in the eye as he did. The demon caught his breath and moaned at the new angle of friction, breaking their brief eye contact and throwing his head back. Bobby took devilish pride in the fact that he could make the man come so undone, that he held so much power over him, even though his heart was still pounding at what he was about to do.

_You can do this, Bobby,_ he told himself. He was tense with nervousness and excitement, his entire body humming in anticipation. He pulled himself back down again, crouching on his knees as best he could in the cramped backseat, and brushed his nose against Saint Dane's clothed cock. He felt the man flinch underneath him, shocked at Bobby's bold actions. To be honest, Bobby was surprising himself with what he was doing. He nuzzled Dane's inner thigh, warmth radiating from between the man's legs. Dane seemed to subconsciously spread himself wider in anticipation.

Bobby pulled his arm free from where it had gotten wedged between them and the seat and pushed the hem of Dane's shirt up, revealing an expanse of flushed skin. Saint Dane shivered where Bobby's fingers brushed him, and he pushed upwards, impatient with how slowly Bobby was taking things. His earlier hesitancy was gone, replaced with a fervored need. Bobby almost laughed at how insistent the demon had gotten. He decided to finally oblige him.

He unbuttoned Saint Dane's pants and yanked them down, eliciting a startled gasp from above. Ignoring this, he sat up and pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor with his jacket. Saint Dane seemed to freeze up as Bobby unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled it off, smirking at the demon's bewildered expression as he smacked the end against his hand. He dropped it too, and gestured at the demon.

"I'm taking my clothes off," he said, voice rough from arousal. "It's only fair you do the same."

Dane leapt into action, hurriedly pulling his dark shirt up and off. It took some interesting maneuvering to get the both of their clothes off, elbows, knees, and heads knocking together more than once. Bobby finally jerked the leg of his pants off his foot, but the momentum threw him off balance, head banging against the window behind him. He yelped and rubbed the sore spot furiously, Dane cackling at his pained expression. The mood was broken entirely, and the two burst into giggles.

"Are we- haha, are we really doing this?" Bobby asked between breaths. He was smiling so much it hurt.

"You've asked that already, idiot," Dane said fondly.

"Yeah, I know," Bobby murmured, pushing a strand of Dane's long hair behind his ear. "I'm just making sure is all."

He was barely able to kiss Saint Dane through his grin, but he did it anyways. They lay back down again, Bobby stretching forward until their chests pressed together. He pulled Dane's leg up, wrapping it around his hip. Dane got the message and squeezed, using that little bit of leverage to thrust their hips harder together. Bobby groaned and dropped his head on the other man's shoulder.

Saint Dane dug his fingernails in and dragged them down Bobby's back, leaving long red scratches that stung like crazy. The pain only heightened the sensations between them, making Bobby positively _shiver_ with arousal. He increased his pace, a piercing heat beginning to build low in his stomach. Dane stretched his neck out, moaning wantonly. The beautiful, unmarred expanse of skin enticed Bobby, who immediately lay claim to it, marking it as his. He bit down harshly, eliciting a groan from the man beneath him, and soothed the wound with his tongue. In response, Saint Dane threaded his fingers through Bobby's short brown hair and yanked.

The feeling in his gut was building, coming to a peak, and Bobby knew what was about to happen. A split second before it hit, he shot up and kissed Saint Dane deeply.

Orgasm washed over Bobby in a sudden wave of blinding feeling. It carried away with it all thought, rushing through his body and stripping him of his strength. He felt his nerves alight with pleasure as his world dissolved and he fell, fell, fell into darkness. He shuddered and pulled his mouth away from Dane, laying his forehead on the other man's chest. Dane stiffened as he came a moment later, then relaxed with a low sigh. Bobby felt the man's heartbeat flutter under him, slowly leveling out.

They stayed that way, entwined with one another, as their breathing slowed. Sweat cooled on Bobby's neck. He became aware of the stinging welts rising on his back from Saint Dane's overly-sharp nails, the demon's hand gently running fingers through his hair, and the warm and sticky liquid quickly cooling on his skin. That last one brought Bobby out of the sleepy haze he was falling into.

He sat up, groaning as he stretched out the kinks in his spine. "On second thought," Bobby said with a rueful grin, "we probably should have taken our underwear off too."

Saint Dane hummed. Bobby shifted, trying to grab his clothes from where he had thrown them, but the sticky feeling between his legs and the tiredness that was sweeping over him made his movements slow and awkward. He giggled absurdly, too tired and high on endorphins to care. He tried in vain to shove Saint Dane's feet off of where they'd fallen in his lap.

"Dude, your legs are _heavy_. Can you just-" Bobby stopped when he realized why the demon wasn't responding. He'd fallen asleep. Bobby sighed. "Of course he would," he muttered to himself.

Bobby wrapped his arms around Dane and maneuvered the two of them into a better position for him to get his clothes back on. He looked at Dane, sprawled across the backseat and snoring gently. They really needed to talk. There were important things that needed to be said, questions that needed to be asked, like _we're mortal enemies and we just had sex in the backseat of my car. What now?_ But Saint Dane was knocked out, having apparently had a really bad week, and Bobby had had much the same kind of week, and Saint Dane looked so innocent when passed out, so he threw his jacket over the man's exposed chest and decided that the talk could wait a while.

Of course, that brought up the question of what they were going to do in that exact moment. Specifically, what _Bobby_ was going to do to get home. He figured he might be able drive. He hadn't had _that_ much to drink. Then again, his legs were still shaking and he was still pretty unsteady from his... recent activities, so on second thought, maybe driving wasn’t a very good idea after all.

Where would they even go? Courtney's house, where Bobby had been staying while on Second Earth? That would be hard to explain. _Hey, you wouldn't mind letting Saint Dane crash on your couch for a couple hours, would ya? Thanks!_

Nah.

Bobby remembered his and Courtney's earlier conversation, before he'd arrived at the club. She'd said she'd be willing to come out and pick him up if he found himself unable to drive. Did this count?

It would have to; she was currently his only option. Bobby sighed again. He fished around the floorboards for where his phone had fallen and flipped it open. He hit Courtney's number on speed dial and waited. He chewed his bruised lip, watching the demon sleeping soundly next to him as it rang, wondering if he would even be able to return to how they had been before when this was all over. He turned and looked out the window as Courtney picked up.

" _Hey dork, how ya doing?_ " Courtney asked.

"G-good," Bobby stammered, trying and failing to hide his nervousness. "I'm good, how about you?"

_"Finally finished that dumb essay I was working on. Man, college is tough."_ A shuffling noise was heard, then the sound of keys jingling. " _Anyways, didja have fun? You need me to come pick you up? You sound pretty out of it."_

The moment of truth.

"Heh, you see, there's a funny story there. You'll never believe who I met tonight..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 is getting this update before fanfic.net, for the first time ever (actually it's because I'm uploading this while at school and the wifi has the other website blocked but WHATEVER)
> 
> Anyways
> 
> Onto the official continuation of Unexpected Meeting! I really hope jmprofio likes it (when I finally get around to uploading it on the other site oops)

Bobby paced nervously outside his car, wrapped in his jacket and shivering. He had just gotten off the phone with Courtney, after having informed her of the night’s rather interesting turn of events. He had been worried about how she would react, seeing as he was pretty much asking to let their worst enemy crash on her couch for at least a few nights. He had spent a full minute holding his breath as he waited for Courtney to answer.

 _Click._ Bobby had stared at his phone, shocked. _Did she just hang up?_ She hadn’t even bothered to answer! He was worried she’d abandon him, but then reasoned that she’d said earlier she’d come pick him up, and Courtney wasn’t one to go back on a promise. Unless there was a _really_ good reason. Hopefully this didn’t count.

So now he was waiting patiently- as patiently as possible, considering the conditions- for her to show up. He’d been waiting inside the car, but the soft snoring coming from the backseat kept reminding him of the possibly disastrous decision he had just made, so he had left. The cold air helped to clear his head.

He shivered and pulled the coat tighter around himself. Snow had started falling, lightly dusting his surroundings. He watched the soft, fluffy flakes as they drifted down to slowly pile on the roof of his car. His inner child wanted to run his fingers through them and make handprints, but he held back, remembering that he didn’t have gloves or another way to warm his hands after.

Headlights pierced the darkness, nearly blinding Bobby. A car pulled into the parking lot,  shutting off its engine. He blinked the spots out of his vision and recognized Courtney’s mom’s old car. He sat up from where he’d been leaning against the side door of his car and shuffled over as Courtney stepped out.

Before he could greet her, she turned and gave him the most vile death glare Bobby had ever received. “What. The fuck,” she growled through clenched teeth. “You better have a _damn_ good explanation for this.”

Bobby opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for what to say. He felt small under her gaze, like an ant staring at a boot poised to squish. “Er…”

“Words. Now.”

He looked at his feet, sheepish. “I already told you everything there is to say on the phone…?”

Courtney crossed her arms, barely restraining her anger. “‘ _Hey Courtney? I might have accidentally slept with a suicidal Saint Dane, can you come pick us up and can he maybe crash on your couch for the night?_ ’ What the actual fuck, Bobby?” she spat. “I mean, I knew you were impulsive, but this is ridiculous!”

“Courtney, you didn’t see him back there!” Bobby insisted. “He’s in a really bad spot. I just meant to comfort him, but then things got a bit out of hand, and-”

“‘ _A bit out of hand’?_ Bobby, having sex with your arch-nemesis is a bit more than a ‘ _bit out of hand’!_ ”

“I know, okay?!” Bobby shouted, throwing his hands up. “I know. I made a mistake! But that was the only way I could think of to get him to let go! He almost killed himself, okay, Courtney? I had to do _something!_ ”

“I don’t believe you!” Courtney had lost all semblance of cool at this point. She poked an accusatory finger into Bobby’s chest. “Have you even paid attention to the shit he’s put us through? Put all the Travelers through? He’s destroyed territories, terrorized hundreds of thousands of _millions_ of people! He’s a fucking _demon_ , Bobby, not some helpless child! Let him die, for all any of us could care! It’d make our jobs a hell of a lot easier!”

Bobby glared, jaw dropping in shock and anger. “Do you even know what you’re talking about?!” he seethed. “Look, I don’t care that he’s my worst enemy. He’s gone through some shit, and was about to kill himself in a very public place. I’m not gonna let _anyone_ I know commit suicide if it’s the last thing I do, even if he’s a cold-blooded murderer!”

“How can you trust him like that?” Courtney retorted. “Won’t he just go back to Solara if he dies anyways?”

“No, I don’t think it’s that simple,” Bobby said. “I know for a fact he can’t go back to our Solara. He’d fade away, like…” He trailed off, remembering Nevva Winter. She’d made a valiant effort at stopping Saint Dane some years ago, which led to her passing. She couldn’t go back to Solara, and Dane seemed to have cut off her access to his darker version of the place. She had nowhere to go, and faded from existence. “Well, at any rate, he’s not coming back if he dies. I think there might be something wrong with his Solara.”

Courtney gritted her teeth. ”So? He’s a great actor and ridiculously manipulative. He could be lying about everything. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should either.”

“Please, Courtney,” Bobby implored. “Please. Even if you don’t trust Saint Dane- which is completely understandable, by the way- then at least trust in me. Something’s wrong with him, I just know it. I want to help him. We might actually be able to change him-- but if we’re gonna do that, I _need_ your help. Please.”

Courtney looked like she was ready to pull her hair out in frustration. She turned away, taking several deep breaths to try and calm herself. After a moment, she turned back and looked at Bobby. He saw something flicker in her eyes, and she sighed, defeated. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. He can stay.”

Bobby perked up and went to hug her, but she put a hand up to stop him. “On one condition. You keep an eye on him at all times. If he steps so much as a single toe out of line, it’s on _your_ head.” Without a second thought, Bobby agreed. He hugged Courtney tightly, and whispered, “Thanks.” She squeezed him back briefly before she let go. She was grinning slightly, but the smile dropped when she looked back at Bobby’s car.

“How are we gonna get him back?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but he’s not riding in my car.”

Bobby hummed and wiped the building snow off the window. He looked inside at Saint Dane, sleeping soundly. He’d shifted while he slept and the spare jacket Bobby had thrown over his body to keep him warm was slipping off. As they watched, he moved again, curling up slightly in the narrow backseat to preserve body heat. Bobby chuckled, smiling at how vulnerable he looked while asleep.

“Are you sure you can’t drive?” Courtney finally asked.

Bobby thought a moment. “I didn’t really have that much to drink tonight,” he answered. “I guess I called you more out of needing your help figuring out what to do, than that I couldn’t get myself home. I guess I can drive back.”

Courtney watched him carefully, then nodded. “Just in case, I’ll drive behind you and keep an eye on you. Anything happens- you feel woozy, lightheaded, dizzy, anything- you pull over immediately. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She walked back over to her car and got in. Bobby followed suit. He turned on the car and shivered, turning the heating up all the way. It took a moment for the car to warm up enough that it worked, but when it did, he pulled off his jacket and started out.

He followed the familiar route to Courtney’s house, going slowly so as to not jostle the sleeping demon in his backseat. It was dark out and snowing, so there weren’t that many other drivers out on the road. He kept looking in the rearview mirror at Dane. _What does he dream about?_ Bobby wondered idly.

All too soon, they arrived at Courtney’s house. When she had started college, her parents moved down to Florida. Her dad had gotten a new job, a temporary position that promised much more than his current salary. They said they’d be back within the year. In the meantime, Courtney was left with the whole place to herself. She said it got pretty lonely sometimes, so when Mark moved to Massachusetts to go to MIT and Bobby needed a place to stay while on Second Earth, she offered her large and very empty house. Naturally, he agreed.

Now another occupant would be joining them. _This should be interesting._

He pulled into the small driveway and parked. Courtney followed a moment later. The automatic porch lights came on, bathing them in bright white light. Bobby stepped out and opened the back door. Courtney joined him, looking at him pointedly. The question of how they were going to get the still-passed-out Saint Dane inside was clear on her face.

“Here, grab his other arm,” Bobby said. He crouched down and slipped one of Dane’s arms around his shoulders, hoisting him up. Courtney looked like she’d rather kiss a tang, but she complied, looping Dane’s other arm around her own shoulder. They lifted him up, and the jacket fell down. Bobby averted his eyes, thankful at least that they’d left their underwear on earlier.

They hurried inside, Courtney closing the door behind them and flipping on the lights. She dropped Dane’s arm to shake the snow off her shoulders, leaving Bobby to bear the brunt of the man’s weight. He grunted, dragging Dane down the hall to the living room. Courtney was of no help. She took off her winter coat and boots, and followed him into the living room, not offering her hand again.

Bobby dumped Saint Dane on the couch and stretched his back, grunting. He looked down as Dane made a soft noise, but the demon didn’t wake. Bobby plopped down next to his head, and Courtney settled down in an armchair across from them.

“...You know he’s gonna be confused as hell when he wakes up,” Courtney said after the silence stretched on too long. Bobby nodded, thinking the same thing. Who knew how he’d react to waking up on the couch of his worst enemy’s best friend? It wasn’t going to be pleasant, that was for sure.

“Well!” Courtney stood up and yawned. “It’s late, and I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She ruffled Bobby’s hair as she passed on her way to her room. “Keep an eye on him. Like I said. One toe out of line…” On that ominous note, she disappeared into the hallway.

Bobby stared at the doorway she had disappeared through for a long time, deep in thought. The night really had gotten away from him. Now they were embroiled in a more complicated situation than any of them had ever thought to prepare for. If he stopped to think about it too hard, he was bound to get a headache. So instead, he went to the guest room to grab a change of clothes.

After taking a quick shower and throwing on some of Courtney’s dad’s old pajamas, he went back into the living room. Saint Dane hadn’t moved an inch, and was snoring steadily. Bobby shook his head and smiled, shambling tiredly over to the armchair Courtney had been sitting in. He flipped on the TV and set it to some late night news channel, hoping to catch up on what he’d missed while away on Traveler duty.

Five minutes later, he was out like a light.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are underway!
> 
> Chapters may not come often, as my dear beta @lordsmellymort is currently having her ass handed to her in the world of college. I will do my best to fix them up myself, but she has given me leave to post them unbeta'd as I wish. I'll try my best to hold back on that, but for now, have an edited chapter she surprised me with last night!
> 
> I do so love emotional strife

Bobby awoke to the smell of burnt toast. He blinked and groaned. That was the _last_ time he slept in an armchair. The awkward angle always left an awful crick in his neck that took hours to go away. He stretched, cracking his back, but stopped abruptly when he heard muttered cursing coming from the kitchen. He went to investigate, expecting literally anything except what he saw.

Saint Dane was cradling his head on the counter next to the toaster, the source of the burning smell. A few tendrils of gray smoke were curling gently up from it. A pan of runny eggs sat on the stove. He groaned, rubbing his temples, and looked up when Bobby cleared his throat.

“What are you doing?” Bobby asked.

“What do you _think_ I’m doing?” Dane replied sarcastically. He flinched and held his head again.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to make breakfast for his worst enemy,” Bobby said. “You sure this isn’t some kind of dastardly plan to poison us?”

“I couldn’t poison you two even if I tried.”

Bobby smirked and walked over to turn the stove on a higher setting so the eggs would actually cook. “Headache?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Dane only groaned in response. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you drink an entire bottle of tequila on your own. Maybe next time you'll think before you drown your sorrows in booze.”

The toaster dinged and two charred-looking pieces of toast popped out. Saint Dane glared at them, likely planning the thousand or so ways he could obliterate them without having to touch them. He looked pretty green around the gills. Bobby felt bad for the guy. This was probably one of the few times- heck, maybe even the _first_ time- he’d ever had to experience something so mundane, yet so terrible, as a hangover.

“So, joking aside, why _were_ you cooking?” Bobby asked. “I can imagine a lot of things, but you in front of a stove early in the morning isn't really one of them.”

Dane rubbed his eyes and answered without looking up. “My stomach is rebelling against me, but I needed something tangible to eat. Neither you nor your girlfriend were awake for me to order around, so I took it upon myself to make something.” He let out a rueful chuckle. “My mistake.”

“Hey, we're not your slaves anyways,” Bobby replied. “And Courtney's _not_ my girlfriend.”

“Oh really?” Dane turned around to lean back on the counter, arms crossed. He managed to look disbelieving, despite his squinting against the bright lights of the kitchen. “Because I remember differently.”

“You remember something that happened a long time ago,” Bobby said. He sighed, poking at the eggs with a spatula. “We dated for a while, but it just didn't work out. We'd been through too much. We'd changed as people. Maybe in another world…” He trailed off, then shrugged. “We're practically siblings at this point-- even thinking about what could've been is just weird.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Bobby instructed Saint Dane to keep stirring the eggs the way he'd been doing it. He tossed the burnt toast in trash and put some new slices in the toaster, turning it down from the absurdly high temperature setting it had been on. He pulled some bacon out of the fridge and another pan out of the cabinet. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right. He set them cooking on the burner next to where Dane was almost done with the eggs and soon they were sizzling. The delicious smell of bacon filled the air, and he heard Dane's stomach growl next to him. The demon looked mortified that his body would betray him in such a way, and avoided Bobby's self-satisfied smirk.

Bobby’s brow creased as he watched the man out of the corner of his eye. When Dane didn’t know he was being watched, his eyes seemed… empty. He stared at the eggs with an unfocused gaze as he moved them around the pan. Once he caught Bobby looking, it was like a mask fell over his face, replacing that vacant expression with one of disinterest.

A door opening somewhere else in the house broke them out of their companionable silence, and they heard padded footsteps approaching. “Mmm, I smell something delicious,” Courtney mumbled from the doorway. She rubbed her eyes and looked up, about to say something, when the sleepy smile dropped off her face.

_“What the hell is_ he _doing in my kitchen?!_ ” she screeched. In the blink of an eye, she had grabbed Saint Dane's arm and flung him out of the room, taking his place at the stove.  She pulled the eggs off the burner and immediately started inspecting the pan closely.

“Courtney- Courtney, what the fuck?!” Bobby shouted. “What was that for?”

“You're trusting him with food?” she asked vehemently. “Do you even know who he _is?_ He could’ve poisoned it!”

“Why would he do that?”

_“Because he's Saint Dane!_ ”

She gestured wildly at the demon. He’d stumbled and fallen when Courtney threw him out, and was sitting on the dining room floor with a mildly hurt expression on his face. But when he saw Bobby looking, the impassive mask from earlier reappeared. He narrowed his eyes at Courtney, voice dripping with distaste.

“She is right,” he commented. “It is possible you could eat that and die a horrible, agonizing death.” Courtney grinned triumphantly, throwing a pointed look at Bobby.

“But you forget,” he continued, making Courtney look back confusedly, “that at this point, I don't care enough to kill you.” He stood up and brushed himself off, then walked back into the living room. They could hear the sound of him dropping solidly onto the couch.

Courtney went to dump the pan of eggs in the trash, but Bobby stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He glared at her. She got the point.

“Fine, whatever. Die if I care. Eat your stupid demon eggs.” Before he could stop her, she'd dropped the pan back on the stove and stomped out of the room. A few seconds later, Bobby heard her bedroom door slam shut.  He winced.

Bobby finished making breakfast without further interruption. With two plates piled high with steaming bacon and eggs, and another sitting on the counter for when Courtney calmed down, he shuffled into the living room. Dane was lying facedown on the couch. He sat up when Bobby approached, wrinkling his nose at the smell, but took the plate anyways and started picking at it. Bobby hesitated. He wanted to join the demon on the couch, but something told him Dane wouldn’t be too happy with the close proximity in his current state. Instead he sat in the armchair across from the couch and dug in.

Saint Dane flinched at a particularly loud scrape of his fork against his plate. He set them down and cradled his head in his hands again.”This headache is going to be the end of days for me,” he groaned.

“Drama queen,” Bobby muttered good-naturedly. “Here, you want me to get you some Advil?”

“I don’t need your assistance, boy!” Dane snapped. He cringed at the loud noise.

Bobby shook his head and set his plate down. “Well, I’m not gonna suffer through your whining just because _you’re_ too proud to take some offered help.” He stood up, stretching, and went into the guest bathroom to retrieve the medicine. He patted Dane’s shoulder on the way, and felt the demon’s sour glare on his back on the way there.

As he passed Courtney’s room, she opened the door. She was clearly ready to leave the house, and looked better dressed than usual.

“What’re you all gussied up for?” Bobby asked.

“Unlike certain world-saving Travelers, _this_ acolyte has college classes she has to go to,” she replied. “And unlike _some_ people, she also cares about how she looks.” She crossed her arms, giving Bobby’s wrinkled leopard-print pajamas a look.

“Hey, these are your dad’s old clothes you’re talking about,” Bobby retorted.

“Yeah, emphasis on _old_. Pops had bad taste in PJs.”

He shrugged and continued on his way to the bathroom. Digging through the medicine cabinet was an adventure, filled with such exciting things as half-full gelatinous cough syrup bottles, old hair-encrusted Vaseline, and _ancient_ canisters of denture cream (Bobby disposed of each appropriately). After cleaning out near half the place in his search for Advil, he finally found an old bottle that rattled when it fell. He picked it up and popped the cap; two pills left. That should be enough. He’d have to remember to stop by the drugstore later.

Muffled yelling interrupted his musings, shocking Bobby into nearly dropping the bottle again. He slammed the medicine cabinet shut and ran back into the living room to see what all the commotion was.

“I know what you’re doing!” Courtney shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Saint Dane. Said demon was laying on the couch, his head buried in his arms and his half-eaten plate of breakfast abandoned. It looked like he was ignoring Courtney, which only served to anger her more.

“You think you’re so smart, seducing the lead Traveler so you can slip through our defenses and hurt us from the inside! I don’t believe you!” She paced across the length of the couch, flames dancing in her eyes as she kept them trained on the demon. “You’re nothing but a manipulative _freak!_ I can’t believe you’d sink so low as to mess with Bobby’s emotions like this. He’s such a sweet guy-- you don’t deserve how nice he’s being to you!

“If it were up to me, I’d have called Press the moment I saw you, instead of ‘comforting you in a time of need’ or whatever the fuck Bobby called last night. I’d have thrown your ass out- or better yet, not let you stay here in the first place, but God help me, I can’t resist when Bobby turns those fucking puppy eyes on me.” She clenched her fists, barely holding back from strangling the seemingly unaffected demon lying prone on the couch.

“What are you even _planning?_ What possible plan could you have that involves emotionally destroying one of my closest friends?!” she screeched. “ _Look at me when I talk to you!_ ”

Bobby took a step forward, intending to diffuse the situation before Courtney got violent. But he stopped, shocked when Dane looked up.

He looked _destroyed_.

“Do you honestly think this was all part of my plan?” he asked quietly. Fire simmered in his gaze. “To willingly _sleep_ with the enemy and spend the night at his house, eating terrible food and suffering through this awful headache, just as a part of a bigger plan? Do you honestly think so low of me?”

He slowly sat up, voice rising with every word. “None of this, absolutely _none_ , was planned. Nor was it wanted. You don’t understand; I am _done._ I have _nothing_ left. I can’t even go back to my Solara.  The world that I created _specifically for myself_ is gone. Depleted. Obliterated. All because of you and your so-called ‘Soldiers of Halla’.” He spat the words like they were poison.

“I have nothing left to fall back on, nothing left to throw into this stupid war. I’m sorry to disappoint you with the fact that no, I don’t have any dastardly plan in the works that involves infiltrating your oh-so secure ranks, and no, I won’t attack you all in the dead of night as you snore away, secure in your own existence, because dammit, I’m so _tired_ of participating in this stalemate of a rotten war when none of us are getting anywhere and we’re all wasting valuable energy!”

He stood, and they realized with a start that Dane’s eyes were swimming with tears. His cool and collected facade from earlier had cracked beyond repair, and was falling to the floor in shattered pieces as he flung these long-held words at Courtney.

“At this point, I’ve wasted all the energy I can spare _and then some_ . The only reason I’m still alive is because of _you_ and your damn kindness!” He spun and pointed straight at Bobby, who started, not realizing that Dane had known he was there.  “If not for _you_ , I’d be safe and happy in oblivion right now, forever lost from this hateful existence! But _no_ , you had to go and take me in because you’re _worried_ , and now you and your pathetic faith in me is the only source of energy I have, and I can’t. Fucking. _Die!”_

Silence, except for Saint Dane’s labored and erratic breathing. He glared daggers at Bobby, who was shocked speechless at the outburst. But before anyone could move, could speak, could even react to what just happened, Dane’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed on the couch.

Bobby jerked out of his trance. He fell to his knees next to the couch and checked Dane’s pulse. It was slightly elevated, but as he waited, it began to even out. _He must’ve passed out from exertion,_ he thought, shocked at how fragile his enemy now was.

He looked back at Courtney, who still hadn’t moved. She was staring at Saint Dane in a mix of horror and shock. A moment passed before her gaze broke from the unconscious demon and slid over to Bobby.

He glared at her. “I leave for five minutes, and you start terrorizing him,” he said, his voice carefully even.

Courtney swallowed thickly. “I- I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she whispered. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and her eyes hardened minutely. “Bobby, I still don’t think we can trust him-”

“What the hell, Courtney?!” he exploded. He managed to rein in his voice, for fear of waking Dane. “Did you completely space out just then? He said he’d be fucking _dead_ if it wasn’t for me!”

“Yeah, but you know him!” she retorted. ”He’s… he’s a really good actor…” She trailed off, watching Dane again as his chest slowly rose and fell. “Bobby, I’m scared.”

That caught him off guard. “What?”

Courtney shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes off the demon. “I don’t know if I can trust him. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth, or if it’s all some grand ploy to deceive you.” She held up a hand to silence Bobby before he could get angry again. “ _But_... you could be right. He could be really suffering. And I…”

She took a deep breath. “He’s done some really shitty things.” Bobby laughed. _What an understatement_ . “But if what he says is true, and he really _can’t_ go back to either Solara if he dies, then I guess… I guess we’ll have to take care of him.” She muttered under her breath, “Even if I don’t like it.”

A cautious smile made its way onto Bobby’s lips. Finally they were getting somewhere. “We’re gonna have to be careful around him,” he said, looking back at the unconscious man. “I still don’t have a complete grasp on his mental state, but it’s not looking good. I don’t wanna make him any worse.”

Courtney hummed in agreement. “...should we call Press?” she asked hesitantly. “He might be able to help more than we can. He knew Saint Dane for a long time before we were even born.”

“No.” Bobby shook his head, dead set on this decision. “That would only make things worse. I love Uncle Press to death, but I don’t know how he’d react to discovering we were housing our worst enemy of the past who-knows how many years. Or the fact that we were trying to take care of him. God, and having to tell him how we got here in the first place-” Bobby shuddered. _That_ was a conversation he wanted to avoid as long as humanly possible.

“What,” Courtney teased, “you don’t wanna tell your uncle you had sex with the bane of Halla?”

“Ew, _God_ , Courtney, stop making me think of it that way,” Bobby cringed. He laughed uncomfortably. “Uncle Press doesn’t need to know about my secret love life.”

“What secret love life? Or better yet, what _love life_?”

“Shut up!”

The two dissolved into giggles, still careful not to get too loud. Their friendship would stay on track for now, though recent developments might make things a little difficult.

He just hoped it wouldn’t crack under the strain of their new burden. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my beta's on spring break right now with a helluva lot of free time on her hands. Well then. 
> 
> Maybe now it's time I got off my ass and hustled to get the rest of the story done or she'll catch up to me!

 

Bobby picked at the leftover eggs on his plate as the TV droned mindlessly in the background. He looked over at the demon lying on the couch next to his chair. Saint Dane was wrapped up in a spare blanket he’d dug out of the hall closet earlier, snoring. He’d been drifting in and out of sleep for the better part of the day, only actually getting up once earlier to shower. He’d put the dirty suit he’d worn yesterday back on while in the bathroom, only to be confronted by Bobby, who demanded he put something clean on. Courtney’s dad’s clothes were a bit short for the demon’s tall, lanky frame, but were the only option available. Dane didn’t protest beyond making a face before slipping them on and passing out again. 

Bobby worried for him. Sleeping this much wasn’t a sign of good health. Normally, he’d try to not care about someone like Saint Dane’s health, but after the disaster that morning, he’d stopped trying to hold back his worry. It wasn’t worth the effort. Saint Dane was in trouble, and needed  _ someone _ to worry about his health if he was so dead-set on not caring about it himself. 

Courtney had left earlier for class. She hadn’t asked Bobby to watch over Dane, knowing he had nothing better to do anyways and would do it even if she told him not to. She’d thrown one last glance at the slumbering demon on her couch and shaken her head, leaving with a promise to be back sometime that evening.

Bobby had tried writing in his journal a bit, but quickly dropped that. He wanted to transcribe the night’s events and keep it up to date, but he didn’t know exactly where to start. He’d vowed, when he first started writing these journals, that he would be completely true to himself whenever he wrote, but in light of recent events, that was kind of hard to do. He didn’t even know how he felt, so how could he write it down? He set the journal aside to try again later. 

With nothing better to do, Bobby turned on the TV. He usually tried to catch up with what was new on Second Earth every time he came back from a mission on another territory, but this time, apparently nothing interesting had happened while he was gone. The news was filled with the usual boring stories about minor robberies and crimes in the city, and new building projects that were lined up for the suburbs. Apparently this fancy new roller skating rink was opening near Davis Gregory High School?  _ Whatever. _ He kept flipping through channels, finally landing on a movie he vaguely recognized and settling down to watch it.

More than once, he found his gaze drawn to the man sleeping soundly next to him. Every once in awhile, Dane would shift or mutter something in his sleep. The blanket slipped off once, but Bobby tucked it back and brushed the man’s hair out of his eyes. He caught himself smiling and pulled back, cursing himself. He really needed to stop getting so close to Saint Dane-- he might develop  _ feelings _ for the guy or something. He sighed and turned back to the TV. 

He lost track of time after that. A few hours passed in a blur of bad shows and worse movies. He might have fallen asleep a couple times, but didn’t really know one way or another.

Frenzied knocking on the front door snapped him awake sometime that afternoon. 

Bobby cracked his neck as he stood. “Jeez, I really need to stop falling asleep like that. Gonna get back problems or something.” He shuffled over to the door and peered through the peephole to see who wanted in so badly.

_ What the hell? _

He opened the door to his Uncle Press, who strode in at once. “Bobby, we need to talk,” he said shortly. 

“What? No ‘hello’? No, ‘Hey Bobby, it’s been a while!’ Nothing?” Bobby crossed his arms and huffed. “Straight to the point, as always.”

“Ha,” Press deadpanned. “Seriously, though, we need to talk.” He turned to head into the living room, and Bobby suddenly remembered that Saint Dane was in there. He hadn’t yet had time to come up with an explanation for why their worst enemy was sleeping on their couch, and Press was sure to have questions.  _ Many _ questions. He panicked.

“We can talk in here!” he shouted, grabbing his uncle’s arm. He cleared his throat. “Um, if it’s so important, I should probably know as soon as possible, right?” Press narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. Bobby held his breath. Would he buy the bluff? The man finally relented and turned back to his nephew.  _ Phew _ . 

“Last night, something big happened in Solara for which I have no explanation,” he began. He started pacing across the hallway of the foyer, gesturing as he spoke. “There was a huge outpouring of energy, the likes of which we haven’t seen in years. Solara nearly completely rejuvenated. Naturally, I was confused. I went to investigate, but I couldn’t find anything. The only conclusions I could draw was that something had happened to either the people, the Travelers, or Saint Dane.”

Bobby flinched. Something  _ had _ happened to Saint Dane, but he couldn’t let Uncle Press know what exactly it was. 

Press eyed Bobby again when he flinched, suspicion flashing across his face. “That gave me a thought,” he continued, “so against my better judgement, I paid a visit to the dark version of Solara Saint Dane created. Guess what I found.”

He crossed his arms, mirroring Bobby’s position. His eyes seemed to bore holes straight through the younger man’s head. 

“It’s gone.”

_ Did I hear him right? _ “What?” Bobby asked, shocked. 

Press shrugged. “Like I said, it’s gone. I’m just as confused as you are. I went to investigate the possible source of the problem, but found absolutely nothing. I thought for a moment that maybe Saint Dane had managed to hide it from me, but I found no sign it had ever even existed, besides a vague feeling of negativity in the air.”

He stared at his nephew, who gulped. Press caught the motion and glanced back over his shoulder into the living room. He couldn’t see the couch from here, but Bobby jerked forward before he’d even moved. Suspicions clearly raised, Press strode into the living room with Bobby on his heels. “Um, I wouldn’t-”

He ran into the taller man, who’d stopped in the entrance to the living room as soon as he saw who was in it. His eyes were trained on the unconscious demon, his shoulders tense as he subconsciously took on a defensive position.

“Bobby,” Press said slowly. “May I ask why Saint Dane is sleeping on your couch?”

“Er, technically it’s Courtney’s couch…” he stalled. Press glared at him in response to the poor attempt at humor. “It’s uh, a long story.”

“I have time.”

_ Thought he’d say that _ . Bobby took a deep breath and started from the beginning. He explained to his uncle the events of the previous night; how he’d gone out to a bar and found a severely intoxicated and extremely miserable Saint Dane, ready to commit suicide in a public place. He told Press how void of emotions Dane seemed, how  _ empty _ he was. He told him what the demon had revealed to him and Courtney that morning, how he seemed to be cut off from both Solaras, and how, without any energy source except Bobby, he was slowly dying. He voiced his concerns for the man, letting Press know just how much pain Dane was in. The only thing he didn’t go into detail about was what he and Dane had been doing before Courtney showed up, though Press probably guessed. 

Throughout the whole thing, his uncle’s expression didn’t change. Even when Bobby told him of Dane’s attempted suicide, only the merest flicker behind his eyes showed that he was listening at all. The staring was getting unnerving, but Bobby pushed on, desperate to make his uncle understand. 

A moment of silence passed after Bobby finished his story. Press watched him carefully, flicking his gaze between the slumbering demon and his nephew. He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. 

“Bobby, you know I trust you,” he finally said. “I trust you with so much. But this, God, this is big.” He gestured at Dane. Bobby had to avert his eyes, feeling ashamed. “This is really big. You understand that, right? You  _ do _ know who he is, right? What he’s done? You haven’t been brainwashed?”

Bobby was insulted. “Of course I remember all the bad shit he’s done. I’m not an idiot. He didn’t give me amnesia or something.” He shuffled in place awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his hands as his frustration grew. “I know what he’s done is inexcusable, it’s just... “ He sighed. “It’s just, something’s not right with him. His mental state is all out of whack, and it’s affecting him badly. I kinda don’t wanna to say this, but I’m worried about him.”

Press stepped closer and clasped Bobby’s arms. “Just  _ think _ about what you’re saying! You say you’re worried about that demon?” He shook him slightly, his voice raising. “I want to trust you, Bobby, but think about who you’re talking about for a minute! It’s  _ Saint Dane! _ He’s the master of manipulation, twisting the fate of entire territories to make them go to war for his own gain! He’s a snake, working his way into your trust until he can bite you at the last moment!”

Bobby exploded. “That’s just what Courtney said!” he yelled. “She said the exact same thing, so I’ll tell you the exact same thing I told her:  _ You weren’t there. _ You didn’t see how bad he had it. He was about to  _ kill _ himself, for Christ’s sake! That, and the fact that he apparently has nowhere for his spirit to go when his body dies, means I’m not gonna let it happen! I don’t care  _ who _ he is or  _ what _ he’s done in the past. He can’t do it anymore anyways; he is  _ done _ .”

Releasing his nephew, Press ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rein in his temper. “Damn it, Bobby, you don’t  _ understand! _ That’s what he  _ does! _ He tricks you into thinking he’s given up, finished his part and stepped off the stage! He’s nothing but a liar and a demon!”

“It’s nice to finally know what you really think of me, Press.”

They spun to see Saint Dane sitting up on the couch, watching the argument with an unreadable expression on his face. He had his hands folded carefully in his lap, the blanket he’d retrieved earlier pooled around his waist. He looked tired, cheeks sunken in his already-thin face and dark circles ringing his eyes. He looked like he could barely stand, but Press stepped forward, putting himself in between his nephew and the demon. 

Dane struggled to stand, weak from exhaustion, but managed to wobble the few steps toward the two of them. Press tensed as he neared, but did nothing. Dane shuffled over until he stood in front of his adversary, curled into himself until they stood nearly eye to eye. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on,” he whispered. His voice was pained, like every word hurt, but he pushed on anyways. “Everything I had, everything I worked for, is gone. All of it. You and your damn Travelers took it all from me.”

“It was for the good of all,” Press stated. “What you did was inexcusable and you know it.”

“Yes.” Saint Dane looked down, and Bobby could see the moment that his spirit shattered. His words came out brokenly. “Yes, I know. Believe me, I know. But that is not the point.

“I am dying, and you know why. My physical form was created from the energies of Solara, but when you cut me off from it so many centuries ago, I started dying. Not just in body, but in spirit as well. I needed a new source of energy, so by gathering enough dark power together in one place, I managed to create my own. It was powered by the negative energy of Halla.”

“Yes, we knew all this already,” Press interrupted. 

Dane regarded him coldly. “What you did not know,” he continued smoothly, “is that it wasn’t enough. Being an unnatural creation, it consumed more energy than it gave off. I had to keep feeding it if I wanted to keep existing. One thing led to another and, well,” he laughed ruefully, “Now it’s gone. When I lost the will to keep going, it consumed itself. There’s nothing left, and I don’t have enough energy left in me to create another.”

He wrapped his arms around himself, seeming much smaller than his normal seven foot tall self. He met Bobby’s eyes for the briefest of moments, then turned them on Press. “But the worst part of all this? You  _ did _ know it already, didn’t you?”

Press avoided his accusatory gaze. He looked to Bobby for backup, but his nephew was staring at him in shock. Press looked away from him too, guilt shining in his eyes.

Bobby felt himself getting angry. Uncle Press  _ knew _ all of this was happening? He knew Saint Dane was slowly losing his mind, dying even, and he had said  _ nothing? _ How could he have kept something this massive from the Travelers?

Dane saw all this and more in that second of hesitation. His face showed just how much the man’s reaction affected him. He snarled, clenching the sleeves of the shirt he was wearing as if to keep from strangling Press. 

“Well, if I’m so terrible, if I’m such a monster, such an absolute  _ snake _ , then kill me.” He stepped closer, lowering his arms and throwing them wide open. The message was clear; he was giving himself up. “I know you’ve wanted to do it since the very beginning, so what’s stopping you, old man? Here I am! Here I stand, weak and helpless as a kitten. I’m powerless, defenseless; hell, I’m  _ pitiful!” _ He got in Press’s face, shouting. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as his voice cracked from the force of the plea. 

“Do it! End this, once and for all! For God’s sake, just  _ kill me!” _

His knees trembled and a moment later gave out under him. Bobby shot forward and caught him before he hit the ground. Dane looked about ready to pass out again from all the stress he’d been through that day, but managed to keep his eyes open- though just barely. He glared at Press through half-closed eyelids, his breathing laboured. 

Bobby watched his uncle too. The outburst was sort of expected, though the intensity was… well, intense. He needed to gauge Press’s reaction, to see what needed to be done next, if he needed to protect the demon from an assault or something. Would Press attack? Could Bobby even protect Dane from him if he did?

Several emotions fought to show on Press Tilton’s face. Anger, resentment, despair, confusion, but most of all, guilt. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he’d closed off all windows into his mind, so neither could tell what he was thinking anymore. He glanced from Bobby to Dane and back, then stepped forward. 

Bobby flinched, turning his body to protect the two of them, but Press pushed right past them. He headed to the front door and threw it open, stepping outside and out of sight. Bobby rushed to follow as best he could while supporting the woozy demon on his shoulder. He got to the door and nudged it back open with his foot, but when he went outside, Uncle Press was gone. Vanished into thin air. He’d probably stepped back into Solara. Bobby wanted to follow him and ask what the hell that was all about, but he needed to stay and take care of Dane.

He closed the door again and locked it before stumbling with Saint Dane back into the living room. Dane had to lean most of his weight on the smaller man to stay upright. Bobby realized very soon that the demon was  _ very _ heavy, despite being so skinny. He got to the couch and dumped Dane onto it unceremoniously.

“Dude, you need to lose some weight,” he gasped, rotating his sore shoulder to make sure it was still in place.”Or at least make yourself shorter so the weight is better proportioned. Or whatever.”

“Can’t, remember?” the demon slurred. His eyes were slipping shut. “No energy…” Then he was snoring. Again. Bobby sighed and covered him back up with the blanket. If he was going to be sleeping so much, he might want to stick the guy in the guest bedroom or something. All this passing out on the couch couldn’t be good for him. Or his back. 

He plopped back down on the chair he’d spent most of the day in. He looked back over to Saint Dane, then at the floor. What was making him feel so protective of the demon? Not the day before yesterday, he would have attacked the guy on sight. Protecting him from the one man who Bobby trusted above all others, who’d guided him through this hell that said demon had created in the first place?  _ Sleeping _ with him? He would have laughed at the absurdity. Or freaked out. Or called the cops. Or something. 

How was he supposed to act around the demon anyways? He’d already proven to both Courtney and Uncle Press that he couldn’t possibly be hostile towards him, not after all he had apparently been through. Especially not after last night (jeez, had it really only been a day?). 

Speaking of last night, they really needed to talk about it. They couldn’t just act like it never happened. Something like that is kinda big, especially when it happens between the two worst enemies in the universe. 

Should he be friendly? How friendly? It’d be kinda weird acting all buddy-buddy with Saint Dane, but how was he supposed to act? He didn’t even know if he’d have to bother putting up a front with Dane sleeping so much. He hadn’t been conscious long enough to interact with Bobby that much today; was that going to be a trend while he stayed with them? He would need to be awake more so he could at least eat or move about some. Maybe if they stopped getting him so worked up, he’d be able to conserve enough energy to actually  _ do _ something. 

How far was he willing to go to protect this new, vulnerable Saint Dane? How much was he willing to defend him? Would he have keep protecting him even if Press got violent?

God, all this deep thinking about his feelings for his arch-nemesis was giving him a headache. He needed a break. It had only been a day, but he needed a break. A nice, long vacation from all this Traveler business. Maybe a massage. 

…And some sleep. 

_ Fuck it. _ He went and got the other spare blanket from the hall closet and curled up in the armchair. His eyes lingered on Saint Dane’s prone form again. He was muttering in his sleep, his brow creased in a sign of uneasy rest. Maybe nightmares, who knew. Bobby closed his eyes and reclined in the chair, easily slipping into a light nap. 

\---

A short time later, he was awoken by the sound of keys jingling in the front door’s lock. The noise was soon followed by footsteps padding into the living room. Bobby opened his eyes to see Courtney stopped in the doorway. She was watching Saint Dane sleep with a disgruntled look on her face. Her eyes flicked over to Bobby, who had positioned his armchair so it was facing the couch, allowing him to keep an easier eye on Dane as he slept. She didn’t notice that Bobby was awake, and left again, headed to her room to drop off her school supplies. 

Bobby waited a few minutes for her to come back in, but she never reappeared. They needed to talk. She needed to know who had come over earlier, and the interesting developments in Solara that had happened because of Saint Dane. 

He finally stood up and stretched, folding his blanket messily and leaving it in his seat. His gaze slid over the demon as he passed.  Dane seemed to have calmed down into a more restful slumber than earlier, at least. Small mercies. 

_ Knock-knock-knock. _ He waited outside Courtney’s bedroom door for a minute, but she didn’t answer. Bobby frowned. Was she in the bathroom? She did have one in there. Maybe she had decided to take a shower after getting home. He was just about to go back into the living room to wait till she got out when he heard the unmistakable sound of papers shuffling. Was she ignoring him?

“Courtney?” he asked. “I know you’re in there. Can I come in?” Silence. Even the shuffling papers had stopped. He waited a minute, then got a bit frustrated.

“I also know you’re ignoring me. We need to talk.” The silence stretched on.  _ Fine then. Have it your way _ . “Uncle Press came over while you were out.”

Movement. Padded footsteps approached the door and it creaked open. “You’re a dick,” she said. Bobby shrugged. She opened the door all the way and let him in. 

Courtney’s room was sparsely decorated. She had a twin-sized bed in the corner, with a small nightstand and an only slightly-bigger dresser. Both were neat and orderly. A closed door off to the side led to a small half-bathroom, and one next to that opened up into her closet.

What little decoration there was was mostly pictures of the two of them and Mark. Bobby passed his gaze over them and smiled as  nostalgia washed over him. The three of them looked so happy and innocent in those pictures. Most of them were from not too long after the war had started, though there were many from times after as well. Most from that time were Courtney’s selfies with Bobby dragged in, and some with the three of them together. Some of the more recent ones included other Travelers. Most had confused looks on their faces, which amused Courtney to no end. 

She said she liked to document these things. It was important to her to have these photos to hold memories for years down the line, when some of the participants might not be around any longer. Memories faded, but pictures were eternal. 

Bobby noticed that as time went on, fewer and fewer photographs had been added. The most recent was from a Traveler get-together two years ago; a small sort-of event to let off steam. It was a group picture, taken in Solara. She, Bobby, and Mark had their arms around each other. Spader was hanging off Bobby’s shoulders, with Gunny’s arm draped around Spader’s shoulders. Aja and Siry were holding hands in the background and waving. Everyone else, including Uncle Press, were squeezed in as well, in some way or another. The grey landscape stretched out behind them to infinity, while colored clouds were caught mid-flight, casting multicolored lights over the group. It was one of the last peaceful moments they had had before everything truly went to shit and everyone had lost most of their hope for the outcome of the war. It was Bobby’s favorite picture of them all, and was apparently special to Courtney too, as she’d gone to the extra length of framing it and setting it on her nightstand, where she could see it every day. 

He felt Courtney come up to stand beside him. Her arms were crossed and a sad smile was on her face. “I miss those times too,” she said wistfully, “but I don’t think we’re getting that back again for a while.”

“Yeah…” Bobby shook his head to clear away some of the leftover nostalgia that threatened to make him feel worse than before. He sat down on her bed and patted the spot next to him, indicating Courtney might want to sit down for this. “But seriously, we need to talk. Press came over today, and it didn’t end too well.”

He then told her about the visit from earlier. As he recounted how Press had just walked out after Dane’s blowup with no explanation or reaction, Courtney’s face remained impassive, thoughtful. Her eyes told a different story altogether. She looked conflicted. Bobby could tell she didn’t know whose side to be on. He felt almost the same way, after all. 

He finished his tale of the extremely interesting day he had had and looked back at Courtney. “We definitely learned something new today, at least,” he said, trying to ease the tense mood. 

Courtney half-glared at him, before turning to stare at the wall in contemplation. She exhaled and rubbed her temples. “It’s been such a long day. God, where do I even start? I never thought, in my entire life leading up to this point, that we’d be having a conversation about protecting your world-destroying demon boyfriend from your spirit guide uncle.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Bobby said, aghast. 

“You had sex with him in your car last night,” Courtney retorted. 

“That was _one_ _time!”_ he said defensively. 

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “If you say so,” she said skeptically. “Man, I don’t even know what to do anymore. I can’t believe I opened up my house to  _ him _ . What was I thinking?”

“You’re not backing out on your promise now, are you?” Bobby warned. 

“No, I’m not,” she sighed. “I’m just trying to figure out this mess our life became.” She clenched her hands together, a pained expression on her face. “I wish Mark were here.”

Bobby nodded sadly. Mark had moved to Massachusetts after he got a scholarship to MIT. He called them on Skype often and sent them unnecessary postcards like the dork he was. A couple of those were taped to the walls with the multitude of pictures in Courtney’s room. Most of them had crude drawings and doodles on the back along with cheesy messages. They never failed to bring smiles to their faces. 

“I miss him too,” Bobby admitted, “but I don’t wanna involve him without a good reason. There’s nothing he can do from where he is, and if we tell him, he’ll just want to come over here to help. We can’t do that to him. He’s been trying to get into MIT for years.”

Courtney brought her knees up and hugged them to her chest. Bobby put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, then stood up. “I need to go check on Dane, make sure he didn’t fall off the couch or something,” he said. “You want some mac and cheese? I made some earlier, before Uncle Press came over. There should still be some left over. I might have burnt it but hey, it’s food.”

Courtney laughed. “How do you burn mac and cheese?”

“Talent.“

She giggled again and got up to follow him. They went into the kitchen and Bobby began the process of heating up some leftover food while Courtney sat on the counter and watched. He joined her as they waited for the microwave to finish its job. Courtney glanced  through the door into the living room, then looked back to Bobby and became more serious. 

“Really though, you do need to be careful around him,” she started. 

Bobby felt himself getting frustrated again. “Courtney, we already talked about this-”

“No, listen,” she interrupted, “that’s not what this is about. You need to be careful around him because you’re getting too close. I’ve seen how you look at him when you think no one can see. I don’t think  _ he _ has, but  _ I _ definitely have.

“You’re falling in love.”

Bobby wanted to protest. He really did. He wanted to feel insulted that she’d assume something so stupid of him, and to call her out on it. He wanted her to know she was wrong. But he feared she might be right. His lack of a response was all the answer she needed. She nodded her head sadly and took the mac and cheese out of the microwave. Bobby hadn’t even realized it had beeped. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. They shared a long look, before she went into the dining room to eat, leaving Bobby to mull over his life choices. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a long and completely unintentional hiatus I'm back! Long story short life sucker punched me in the face and writer's block dragged my unconscious body into a back alley to beat the shit out of. But I'm back now, so wheee!
> 
> Lordsmellymort recently finished the school year and is on summer break, and I'll be following in two weeks. That means we'll have a lot more time to work on this (among other things ;D)
> 
> Anyways, this chapter has been a pain in my ass for too long, and now it gets to be a pain in your asses. Enjoy~

Four days passed in relative ease. There were no more incidents, no more surprise visits, no more freak-outs. Saint Dane slept most of the time, though as the days passed, he was in the land of the living more and more. Courtney went to her classes for a few hours each day, then returned home more often than not to Bobby watching Dane sleep. Usually he'd already made food, and leftovers were chilling in the fridge. They'd watch a movie or two, maybe play some games on Courtney's PlayStation, then she would head off to bed and he would stay up to watch over Dane for a while longer. After two days of passing out in the armchair and waking up to aches and pains that plagued him the rest of the day, Bobby started sleeping in the guest bedroom down the hall from the living room. He kept his door open so he could hear if Dane woke. He never did. Bobby kept it open anyways.

That's not to say he stayed indoors all the time. On the third day, Bobby noticed they were running low on groceries, so he waited until Dane had passed out again before he went to get some. He picked up only the bare essentials from the nearest corner store before rushing home as fast as he legally could.

Dane was sitting up on the couch when he returned, staring intently at the wall. He started when Bobby walked in, looking at him with panic in his eyes for the briefest of moments before it passed. He noticed Bobby's worried expression and waved it off. "Forgot where I was for a moment," he snapped. "Ignore me." He proceeded to turn over and close his eyes again, feigning sleep. Bobby smiled fondly and went to put the groceries away. 

One night, Bobby and Courtney were just setting the table for dinner when Dane shuffled in, clearly having just woken up. He rubbed his eyes and plopped down in an empty chair, confusing the hell out of everyone else present. 

Up until this point, he'd eaten reheated leftovers whenever he was conscious, which wasn't often. He refused to eat with them at the table, preferring to pick at his plate from where he'd taken up residence on the couch (Bobby tried offering him the guest bed instead, but he vehemently refused. He wouldn't say why). The fact that he was willingly sitting at the dinner table and filling his plate without disappearing back into the living room afterwards baffled them. Dane acted like there was nothing wrong, even going so far as to ask politely for Courtney to pass the dish of potatoes. 

"You feeling okay, man?" Bobby asked. 

Dane nodded, giving a curt smile, and didn't speak for the rest of the evening. After they finished and cleared away the dishes, he went back into the living room to lie down again. Courtney looked at Bobby and shrugged; she was just as confused. They didn't question the demon, afraid of breaking the fragile calm that had fallen over their dysfunctional household. 

The next morning, after Courtney left for class, Bobby finally decided to change things up a bit. 

"Get up, lazybones. We're going out." He chucked a throw pillow at Saint Dane, who was dozing on the couch. 

The man sat up and tried to glare, ruining the effect by yawning. "You're not dragging me out for some 'quality time’ together, if that's what you're thinking," he said. 

"Dude, seriously. You need to get out and  _ do _ things," Bobby replied. He yanked Dane's blanket off his feet and balled it up, throwing it on the foot of the couch. The man curled his legs up closer for warmth. "You've been cooped up for five days, sleeping. Even  _ I’m _ going stir-crazy, and I'm not the one stuck here."

"You can't make me go with you," Dane spat. 

"Actually, I can," Bobby grinned. "You have no powers, remember?"

"I can still wring your neck, boy." Dane rose and made to take a step forward, but faltered when Bobby didn't flinch. 

"Yeah, sure. You do that." He headed into Courtney's parents' old room with Dane on his heels and rifled through the boxes of her dad's old clothes they'd unearthed when the demon first came to stay with them. He tossed a relatively new shirt and pair of jeans at the man hovering in the doorway. Dane hadn't changed clothes since that first day, and he was looking rough around the edges. "Get dressed. Don't argue. Don't complain. I'm sick and tired of seeing nothing but these walls all day 'cause you're a little emo baby who doesn't want to walk around this territory if he doesn't have plans to conquer it."

He walked out before Dane could protest and closed the door. Muttered cursing of his name was heard, but so was the sound of him struggling into the too-small clothes. As he went to change out of his pajamas, Bobby made a mental note to get some clothes that actually fit the demon while they were out. 

They met back in the living room a couple minutes later. Bobby laughed when he saw Dane fidgeting around, clearly uncomfortable wearing clothing that wasn't his size (was there any clothing they could buy in a normal store that would even fit him? He was _seven freaking feet_ _tall_ ). Bobby offered the demon his spare jacket. Dane sneered at the coat but put it on quickly when Bobby opened the door and hit him with a wave of freezing air. 

It was a sunny day out, despite the freezing temperature. The brisk air did a good job of clearing any leftover sleepiness from Bobby's head. The sun felt nice, warming the worst of the chill away. He decided to walk the mile or two to the Ave from Courtney's house instead of wasting gas and driving. Dane didn't seem happy with the extended physical activity, but didn't complain. 

"So what do you wanna do today?" Bobby asked, in a good mood. He smiled expectantly at the man sulking along beside him. 

"Go back."

Bobby laughed. "Nah, we need a better idea."

"Die."

"Okay, stop."

"You asked."

"My mistake."

Dane scoffed, turning his head away. Bobby could see he was hiding a small smile. They walked the rest of the way in silence. 

Much to Saint Dane’s chagrin, they stopped by Garden Poultry and picked up some fries. He made faces at the smell but was forced by Bobby’s unwavering stare into taking one. He was probably hungry and, despite obviously hating the taste, knew he needed something to eat if he was to conserve energy. 

They wandered around the Ave for the better part of an hour. As the day wore on, it got warmer and more people came out to shop. Bobby kept looking over to check on the other man. Every time they passed a group of people with more than two members, he stiffened visibly. Bobby gave the demon a questioning glance, to which Dane returned a withering glare. 

“Can we just do what we set out to accomplish and return?” he asked, crossing his arms. “These clothes make me horrendously uncomfortable.”

That made sense. Dane probably wasn’t used to wearing casual Second Earth clothes, let alone ones that didn’t fit.  That made Bobby remember their original purpose in coming here. “Oh yeah, we were supposed to go clothes shopping for you. Come on.”

Dane grumbled under his breath, clearly hating that he had to suffer more of being outside, but followed without argument. Bobby thought the demon might have been a little afraid of him now that he had none of his previous power. That made him feel like he had a bit more leeway with ordering the guy around, but upon further thought, made him feel a little weird. It felt strange, being able to make his once all-powerful arch-nemesis do anything he wanted. It felt strange knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it. It didn’t feel particularly good. He brushed off the thought as they arrived at the one department store on the Ave, Miller’s. 

Miller’s was a fairly small place, but it did its job. It sold a wide variety of items, with a good-sized section for clothes. Bobby thought that they should be able to find something for Saint Dane there, even if the sizing might not have been perfect.  

The holiday season was just over, so a lot of things had gone on clearance. The place was more crowded than usual.  Bobby was shouldering through the crowd, heading straight for the door, when he noticed that Dane had stopped following him. He turned back. 

Saint Dane was standing stock-still, frozen as people pushed around him. He was staring at the doors, where a line had formed as people took turns entering and exiting the small store. He was shivering, though it didn’t seem to be from the cold. 

Bobby came over. “You okay?” he asked, worried. 

Dane seemed to forcefully shake something off and looked down at him coolly. “I am fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because you… looked ready to freak out a second ago?” He was confused. Had he imagined the look on the other man’s face just a moment ago?

“It is merely the stench,” he sneered. “Do we have to do this? I am perfectly capable of wearing what I’ve been in thus far.”

Bobby looked closely at him. Dane’s eyes were hard, but behind them was a flicker of… was that panic? It was so small, so minute, he could’ve been imagining it. Huh. 

“No, you can’t go around borrowing Mr. Chetwynde’s old clothes forever. You need some of your own. And _ not _ that suit. It’s ratty and old, and you need more variety in your wardrobe,” he added before the demon could protest. He watched Dane argue with himself internally, before reluctantly giving in. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways-- Bobby would have dragged the man in by his ear if need be. 

They walked in and were immediately assaulted by a wave of noise. People were shoving, shouting, grabbing things off shelves and running around wildly. It was like the second coming of Black Friday.  _ On second thought, this might’ve been a bad idea. _ Oh well. Saint Dane needed some new clothes, so they would just have to run in, grab some, and run out without getting trampled. Easy-peasy. 

They dove into the mess, making a beeline for the clothes department. Bobby was so focused on picking his way through the crown he almost missed a hand catching his jacket sleeve. He started and looked back at Dane. 

“So I don’t get lost?” Dane said hesitantly. He seemed unsure of this excuse, but Bobby brushed it off when someone shoved him aside to get to a display of chocolate. He cursed under his breath and continued pushing through, now with the demon latched onto his sleeve. 

The clothes section was a bit less crowded, with most of the clearance items being holiday-themed and therefore not in the same area. There were still a few large groups of people milling about, but Bobby made sure to steer clear of them. He took Dane over to the area with more formal men’s wear, thinking the man might find something he would be able to wear there. He started rifling through the suit jackets, completely unaware of an approaching group. 

“Stick with me here, man, I don’t know anything about suits,” Bobby said, pushing two apart and holding up another for Dane to see. “Do you think this’ll fit-”

An iron grip on his wrist made him drop the jacket in shock. He looked up directly into Dane’s wide, panicked eyes, suddenly became aware of several things: loud, rowdy people shoving around them and yelling in their ears, Saint Dane’s breath coming out in short gasps, and his shaking hands squeezing Bobby’s arm so hard he worried something might break. He heard, through the din of the people screaming around him, Dane repeating over and over again, “Stop, stop,  _ stop, stop STOP!” _ He clenched his eyes shut and started shaking. Bobby thought he saw tears running down the man’s face. 

“Whoa, holy shit, are you okay?” he asked. The suit was forgotten, lying trampled on the floor. He grabbed Dane’s hands and tried to get his attention, trying to snap him out of it. The man ignored him, rapidly clenching and unclenching his fists around Bobby’s fingers. He was hyperventilating, and when he opened his eyes to reveal overblown, darting pupils, Bobby realized with sudden clarity what was happening.

Saint Dane was having a panic attack.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” Okay, priority one was to get out of the crowd. Bobby had at least some idea of how to calm someone down from a panic attack, having had to do the same thing to Mark a couple times when they were younger. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, come on. Follow me. Clothes can wait.” He tried pulling Dane along behind him by the arm, but the man’s feet were rooted to the ground. He shook Dane’s shoulders, trying to get him to focus. “Come on, man. You can do this. Come on.” Dane refused to move, so Bobby grabbed his hands and pulled with all his might. Dane seemed to regain some form of coherence as he finally budged. His steps were jerky and uneven, but it was a start. 

Bobby didn’t care about being rude anymore. He plowed straight through the crowd, shoving people aside when they got in their way. He could feel the other’s racing, uneven pulse against his fingers. He zipped through the store, dragging Saint Dane along by the wrist, until they reached the front door. 

Bursting through the doors, they were hit with a wave of freezing air, seeming to clear Saint Dane’s head a bit more. He collapsed to the ground in front of the Miller’s, their entwined hands bringing Bobby to his knees as well. Bobby yanked his hand out of the other’s grasp and gripped his shoulders. 

“Dude, stay with me here. It’s okay. We’re out,” Bobby reassured him. He moved closer, wrapping an arm around the demon’s shoulders, trying to comfort him as best he could. They got a few stares from the people passing around them to get into and out of the store, but Bobby had more important things on his mind. “We’re fine. You’re fine. It’s okay. Breathe slowly or you’re gonna pass out, man. In, out. In, out. Come on man, you can do it. In, out,” he instructed, keeping up a steady stream of instructions to try and keep Dane from passing out. 

After a minute, he seemed to hear Bobby’s words. His breathing slowed, his tremors lessened. He was calming down. 

They stayed on the ground a moment longer. Bobby was about to ask what had brought the panic attack on when Saint Dane abruptly stood and pulled himself out of Bobby’s grasp. Bobby stood with him, trying to catch his eye and silently asking for an explanation. Dane avoided his worried expression and trained his gaze on a point somewhere above the shorter man’s head. 

“Are we done here?” he asked evenly. Any indication that he had had a panic attack mere moments ago was hidden, to the point where an outsider would be none the wiser. But Bobby wasn’t fooled. His heart was still racing, the image of a shaking Saint Dane curled on the ground burned into his mind. 

“Yeah,” Bobby said slowly, frowning. “Yeah, sure.” 

Still refusing to look at him, Dane started walking back the way they came. Bobby followed, trying to gauge the demon’s emotions and figure out what the hell just happened. Saint Dane had shut himself off almost completely, and the only thing he was letting though was irritation, which frustrated Bobby to no end. If only the demon would  _ tell him what was wrong  _ for once!

They were nearly back at Courtney’s house when Dane finally spoke. “What is it, boy?” he snapped. “You’re watching me like I’m a bomb about to go off. Spit it out!”

Bobby hesitated a moment. “Are you… Are you sure you’re okay?” he ventured. “What happened earlier, that was, uh, kinda big.”

“It was nothing.” He faced forward and continued walking, indicating he thought the conversation was over. 

“Dude, that wasn’t ‘nothing’,” Bobby said, stopping him with a hand to the shoulder. “You had a major panic attack. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“How about you let me take care of myself, instead of mother-henning me?” Dane sneered. He yanked his shoulder out of Bobby’s grip. “I managed perfectly well without you for centuries.”

“Because I’m worried about you!” Bobby shouted. “And no, you didn’t. You were ready to kill yourself less than a week ago! I don’t know about you, but that just screams ‘ _ Help!’ _ to me.”

“You mind your own business,  _ Pendragon _ .” Saint Dane’s voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers up Bobby’s spine. “My mental health no concern of yours.”

“Except it is.” Bobby folded his arms and stared the demon down. “It became my business when you started living with Courtney and me. It became my business when you almost committed suicide  _ right in front of me _ . It became my business when you  _ slept _ with me.”

“So he finally admits that happened!” Dane mocked, throwing his hands in the air. “Give the boy a round of applause! I thought he’d gone and forgotten. He surely  _ acted _ like it never happened!”

“I acted like it didn’t happen because I had no fucking clue how to act!” Bobby got in the taller man’s face, having to stretch on his toes to do so. “What was I supposed to do? ‘ _ Hey! I know we’re mortal enemies, but we had sex that one night, so we’re good now!” _ ’ He jabbed a finger into Dane’s chest to emphasize his point. “And it’s not like  _ I _ was the only one denying reality. You’ve done nothing but  _ sleep _ this past week!”

“There is a reason for that, and you know it!” 

Bobby growled, trying to keep from strangling the demon in public. Their yelling was getting them a few stares from other people on the street, so he stomped onwards, intent on finishing this argument back at home. Dane got the idea and fumed silently as he waited for Bobby to unlock the door. 

He threw it open, shutting and locking it the second they were both through. He turned, a scathing retort on his tongue, when he found himself slammed against the door he just closed. 

The breath was knocked out of him as his head banged painfully against the hard wood. An arm pressed into his collarbone; not actively cutting off his air supply, but close enough to be a warning. Saint Dane had him pinned up against the door, nothing but a menacing silhouette and fiery blue eyes filling Bobby’s vision. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and his eyes were dark. Bobby felt his breath catch. 

“Do you  _ really _ want to know why I panicked earlier?” he hissed. “It’s because I have no power over my life. I was in the middle of a crowd of filthy, noisy humans, being shoved around like some lowly  _ mortal _ , and there was nothing I could do about it. I had zero control over my situation, and it  _ killed me _ .”

He shoved his arm further into the other’s collarbone. Bobby winced, the pressure starting to hurt, but he felt excitement stirring inside him despite the pain. Something about the position he found himself in was strangely primal. His pulse fluttered madly against Dane’s wrist on his throat. The demon gave no indication of having felt it. 

“I knew I would be uncomfortable in a predicament like that, but apparently I severely understated my ability to cope with it. Happy now?” 

Bobby nodded, gulping. 

Saint Dane narrowed his eyes. “Since we are on the subject, why don’t I tell you the rest of my  _ feelings _ , since you will hound me to the edges of Halla if I don’t?”

“That’s really not necessary-” A fist slammed into the door next to Bobby’s head, startling him into silence. 

“I hate, absolutely  _ despise _ how dependant I am on you and that girl,” he spat. “Always feeling weak, any emotional outbursts making me swoon like some sickly maiden. I rely on you two for my every need, unable to even leave the house without losing my mind. This existence I live is  _ hell _ , Pendragon. Do you understand?”

Bobby nodded weakly again, at a loss for words and trying vainly not to show how much this was exciting and terrifying him. 

Dane’s eyes flashed, iridescent blue burning in a thin circle around overblown pupils. He leaned closer, hot breath washing over Bobby and making his heart race faster. He was afraid of the demon and it thrilled him. “You tiptoeing around me like I’ll break if you so much as  _ look _ at me the wrong way doesn’t help either.”

Bobby gasped as the fist that was clenched against the door next to his head moved, fingers weaving through his short brown locks and yanking. “You don’t seem to be getting the hint.” The demon’s voice had dropped considerably, rough and affecting Bobby in a way he didn’t know a voice could. He struggled to hold back a moan as the arm holding him against the door moved until Dane’s other hand slid around his throat. The man’s fingers rested against his racing pulse, long nails lightly digging into the tender skin. 

“I guess I’ll just have to  _ take _ what I want.” 

Their teeth clicked together painfully as Saint Dane wrenched Bobby into a violent kiss. No pretense, no buildup, just a messy, heated clash of teeth and tongues. Bobby choked as Dane’s tongue nearly found its way down his throat, devouring him from the inside out. He would have liked to call it a battle for dominance, but it wasn’t a battle. It was a slaughter. 

He tried to push against the demon, to contribute or get away or something,  _ anything _ , but a knee wedged between his thighs pinned him in place. Dane bit down harshly on his lower lip, drawing blood, but the pain only excited Bobby more. He extricated his arms from where they’d gotten pinned between their bodies and wound them around the demon’s neck. He thrust his hips upward, grinding against the man’s knee. 

Dane pulled back with one last nip to Bobby’s bruised and bleeding lips and bent down. Bobby felt himself being lifted into the air and quickly wrapped his legs around the other’s middle so as to not fall. Dane pushed him back up against the door, holding him in place where their hips connected. His nails dug into the smaller man’s thighs, leaving marks that would bruise. 

The wall suddenly disappeared from his back and Bobby was being carried into the living room. He pressed his face into Dane’s neck, his thighs shaking with the effort of holding himself up, and breathed a moment to try and calm himself down. He needed to think things through, but the overheated body he was clinging to was muddling his thoughts beyond repair. 

He was dropped unceremoniously onto the couch, bouncing slightly as he landed. He opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment but choked as he felt the taller man straddle his waist. 

“You are not going to speak,” Saint Dane growled. He bent over Bobby and licked a hot stripe up his neck, over his chin, and stopping at his mouth. “You are not going to shy away.” He nipped lightly at Bobby’s upper lip, in stark contrast to the harshness from earlier. He pressed their foreheads together, staring directly into Bobby’s lust-ridden eyes. 

“You are going to  _ listen _ , as I take you apart.”

Bobby shuddered as his will shattered. Dane grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head. He looked down, and for the first time in a while, Bobby felt small. He felt like a prey finally caught by its predator, staring into the jaws of death, as Dane descended on his mouth. 

He pushed his hips up again, craving some sort of friction from the stilled demon atop him. Dane got the hint and started moving. Bobby moaned wantonly into the other’s mouth, having to pull back to take a breath before he passed out. Dane, unsatisfied with the lack of contact, shifted down until he could comfortably reach Bobby’s neck. He bit down hard on his clavicle, forcing a stuttering gasp out of the smaller man. 

Bobby was so lost in the feeling of the man on top of him, he almost didn’t hear the front door open. He shot up, narrowly missing knocking heads with the demon, at the same time Courtney walked into the room.

“Guys, I’m home-” she called, but stopped short when she saw them. Bobby scrambled to push the heavy man off uselessly, but it was too late. Her face went red so fast, it would have been comical if the situation weren’t so serious. 

Courtney slowly turned her head away. “Bobby,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “What. The.  _ Hell. _ ”

Saint Dane finally unfroze and backed off, allowing Bobby to shoot to his feet and take a step toward the entryway. Courtney put up a hand to stop him. 

“No.” She looked back at him, and he saw the fury in her eyes. “Explain.  _ Now _ .”

He launched into an explanation, but even he knew it sounded weak. His excuses fell on deaf ears, Courtney’s glower refusing to lessen. In fact, it seemed to increase with each word. 

She stopped him again after the fifth or sixth apology. “Look, Bobby, I don’t care that you’re sorry,” she said angrily. “I care that you’re getting emotionally manipulated by that demon! What did I tell you about getting attached to him?”

“I thought we went through this already!” he shouted. “He’s harmless! He’s weak! He couldn’t take advantage of me even if he wanted to!” He didn’t mention the way Dane had seemed so threatening earlier-- surely that had just been a product of the heat of the moment. Bobby could’ve gotten out of his hold in a heartbeat if he had really wanted to. “What is your problem with him anyways?”

“My  _ problem _ ,” Courtney began, advancing on her housemate, “is that you don’t seem to realize you’re fraternizing with the enemy! Hell, this has gone far beyond ‘fraternizing’, you two were about to have sex on my couch!”

“Courtney, I’ve told you before, I’ll tell you again: my love life is none of your business. We’re not dating anymore, that whole mess ended a long ago. You have no control over who I sleep with.”

She blew up. “That’s not the  _ point! _ ” she screamed. “I literally could not care less who you sleep with! Except when it’s Saint Dane! Why?  _ Because it’s fucking Saint Dane! _ ” She stomped into the living room, pacing the length of the room in front of the TV as she ranted. “I don’t  _ care _ that he’s weak, I don’t  _ care _ that he seems powerless,  _ I don’t fucking care _ if he’s had a change of heart or whatever! He’s done all these god-awful things, ruined our lives and the lives of countless others, all in a mad quest to take over everything that is or ever will be! I can’t believe you’d ignore all that just ‘cause you decided you want to jump his bones!” 

“Fucking hell, Courtney, he had a panic attack in public earlier!” Bobby went to her, trying to get her to see his reasoning. “An actual hyperventilating, crying, rocking-on-the-ground panic attack! I’m worried about him, and I can’t help if I grow to care about him while trying to help him! People do shitty things in their lives, that’s human nature. I understand I’m probably being unreasonably forgiving, but I can’t help it! I can’t help that I’ve fallen in l-”

He choked on his words, swallowing them before they could come out. Courtney narrowed her eyes, catching the slip-up. He glanced back at the couch, where Dane had been sitting curled up in the corner for the duration of their argument. 

He was gone. 

“What the hell?” Bobby asked. “Where’d he go?” They had apparently missed the demon leaving, too caught up in their argument to notice his departure. Rage and frustration forgotten, Bobby stepped into the hallway from the living room and called out. “Saint Dane? Hello?”

No answer. He ventured out into the attached dining room and from there, the kitchen. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Courtney came up behind him, curious to see where he’d gone. 

He stepped back into the entryway and was headed to check out the bedrooms in the back of the house when he passed by the bathroom. He heard muffled crying coming from inside. He looked over worriedly at Courtney, who shrugged. Turning back to the door, he opened it carefully. 

A glimpse of gleaming silver and a splash of red on the floor tiles was all he saw before panic kicked in.

“Oh god oh god  _ oh god no. _ ” Bobby fell to his knees and covered his mouth, bile rising in the back of his throat. Courtney gasped behind him. Dane looked over, the briefest flash of despair in his eyes before he slid to the floor in a heap. The knife clattered to the floor, and Bobby’s brain kicked into overdrive. 

He grabbed Dane’s wrists and put pressure on the cuts there. Hot blood coated his fingers, making his hold slippery, and he doubled his grip to stem the bloodflow. “Don’t die on me, please don’t die on me, I refuse to let you die after all we’ve done,” Bobby chanted under his breath. “God damnit Saint Dane, if you die right now I will personally find your soul and drag it back from wherever you go  _ and I will kill you myself _ .” He released one hand to cup the demon’s cheek, tears dripping off his face to mix with the blood on his hands. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, please. Come on man you have to  _ wake up! _ ” He returned his hand to keep the pressure on Dane’s wrists and turned to Courtney, who was still standing in the doorway in shock. “What are you waiting for?  _ Call a fucking ambulance!” _ he screamed. She jumped to attention and ran out the door. 

He turned back to see Saint Dane’s eyes open slightly. He tried to focus on Bobby, but it seemed too much effort. “Wh- what are you doing?” he asked weakly. 

“ _ Saving your ass _ , that’s what!” Bobby choked out. He clutched vainly at Dane’s wrists, where blood was quickly leaking out of the long, vertical slits he’d made. He kicked the kitchen knife as far away as he could without moving away from the other man. Blood was soaking into his long shirtsleeves, but at the moment he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

“What the hell were you  _ thinking?!” _ he snapped. 

Dane shook his head. “I’m a burden. I-” he stopped to cough. 

“Look, I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what you’ve done,” Bobby whispered, “I love you and  _ you will not die on me. _ ” 

Dane smiled sadly, eyes slipping shut despite Bobby’s screams of protest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> See you soon~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The not-so-long awaited events after last chapter's fun conclusion! Enjoy some emotional shiz
> 
> Also the Arabic phrases in here were researched using an Arabic for dummies book, so while it's more accurate than Google Translate, it's probably not perfect. Send me a message if you guys see anything wrong, and I'll fix it. Thanks!

The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that permeated the thick atmosphere of the hospital room. Bright white lights shone on dull grey walls, reflecting off the many medical instruments and machines set up in the tiny room. It was quiet, almost  _ deathly _ quiet, and that scared Bobby almost as much as the man next to him did. 

Saint Dane slept soundly, still under the effects of the anesthesia they’d given him during the blood transfusion. The only part of him not covered by the blanket were his face and one arm with an IV needle currently inserted in it. It lay by his side, Bobby’s fingers intertwined with the other man’s. He held on tightly, although mindful of both the IV and the bandages encircling the man’s wrists. 

Courtney sat across from him, in an equally uncomfortable-looking chair for visitors. She’d gone from watching the sleeping demon to staring blankly at a point on the opposite wall, lost in thought. She hadn’t spoken a word since they’d arrived at the ER, and had remained silent when they wheeled Dane in here after his blood transfusion. 

The biggest thing Bobby was worried about was whether or not the blood transfusion had worked. He didn’t know how blood from a creature of Halla would affect a spirit of Solara’s body. Nothing bad had happened yet, though, which Bobby took as a good sign. Maybe Saint Dane’s biology worked similarly enough to a human’s for it to work. He didn’t know, and honestly, as long as it didn’t kill Dane, he didn’t care. All he cared was that the man would live. 

He glanced over at Courtney again. This time, she met his gaze. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but hesitated. She looked torn, guilty. Finally, she averted her stare again to look at the floor. Bobby felt anger begin to trickle through him. 

“You could at least  _ say _ something,” he said, glowering. 

Courtney bit her lip, but remained silent. 

“Come on!” he snarled. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just given the guy a chance! I told you he was in a bad place, but you didn’t believe me.  _ Now _ look where we are!”

Courtney shivered. She wrapped her arms around her middle and curled into herself. Bobby turned back, giving up on getting anything out of her, when he heard two words, softly spoken but laced with regret and pain. 

_ “I’m sorry.” _

All the anger drained out of him. All his frustration at her, all his animosity over her egging Dane on, flowed out of him until he just felt  _ empty _ . He sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Courtney looked up. “You were just being cautious, being careful. You were trying to be a good friend, something I’ve been failing at a lot these days. I shouldn’t have plunged into this headfirst.” He scoffed. “Maybe if I’d thought things through that night at the bar, we wouldn’t be doing this right now.”

He smiled sadly, squeezing Saint Dane’s hand on the starched bedspread. “I don’t regret it though. I’m glad I made that particular mistake. Though I... “ He sighed. “I wish we could’ve gotten here a different way.”

A small smile graced Courtney’s lips. She turned back to her wall, the tense atmosphere permeating the room loosening around them. Bobby went back to watching the slow rise and fall of Dane’s chest, comforting himself in the fact that the man was still alive. 

Before much time had passed, a nurse came by to update them on Dane’s condition. She was a short, stocky woman, with dark skin and a bright orange headscarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders, the burst of color contrasting sharply with her plain white nurse’s uniform. She carried a clipboard, scribbling something on it before flashing them a comforting smile. 

“ _ Ahlan, _ friends.” She tucked the pen into her breast pocket. “I have some good news. Apart from the obvious scarring on his wrists, your friend will not suffer any long-term physical side effects. You made it here just in time.” She paused. “However, his condition does require professional therapy, or it is possible this might happen again.” 

Bobby balked at the idea. He could admit that he’d put some serious thought into signing Saint Dane up for therapy, especially after that stunt he had pulled in the bar with the gun. Bobby would’ve done it, too, except for one minor problem: Saint Dane didn’t technically exist. Until now, whenever the demon had taken residence on a territory, he’d set himself up with a fake identity. Not this time. Even if it weren’t too late, he couldn’t. He was cut off from his powers, and too low on energy to do anything. It would be impossible to sign someone up for therapy on a hospital recommendation if they didn’t have any identification or known medical history. 

Bobby glanced at Courtney to see that she shared his concerns. She shrugged, indicating that it was his call. He worried at his lip, trying to determine what was best to say, what would be best to do for Dane. He hadn’t been trained to react in a situation like this! Well, he hadn’t really been  _ trained _ at all, but still. 

The nurse, sensing his hesitation but mistaking its cause, continued. She put her clipboard down on a side table and sat down in the spare guest chair, spreading her hands in a friendly and placating manner. 

“I am sorry, but we have taken the choice out of your hands. His condition is serious enough that without therapy, it is almost certain he shall attempt this again. We have already signed him up to start seeing someone, starting next Wednesday.” 

Confusion flitted across Bobby’s features. “Wh- how?” he asked. 

“Well,” the nurse began, “we reserve the right to follow our judgement when it comes to sick patients, whether that illness be physical or mental. It was clear that measures needed to be taken to assure that Mr. Saint-Clair does not attempt suicide again in the future, and therapy seems the best option by a substantial margin.”

She continued talking, but Bobby wasn’t listening. “Wait, Mr. Saint-Clair?”

The nurse paused. “Yes…?” she said, confused. “Your friend, the man lying in the bed right next to you? Daniel Saint-Clair?”

Bobby opened his mouth to say that that wasn’t Saint Dane’s name, but stopped. Something was going on here. He looked over to Courtney, and saw that once again, she was having the same thoughts. She shook her head slightly, indicating he should probably play along. 

“Sorry, yeah,” Bobby finally said. “I’m just tired. I misheard you.”

The nurse stared a moment longer, before continuing. “As I was saying, he has already been signed up for therapy. The hospital bills and the payment for the sessions have already been taken care of, so as soon as Mr. Saint-Clair has fully recovered from his blood transfusion, you are free to go!”

Bobby nodded, until he caught up with what she said. “Hold on, we haven’t paid yet. Who did?”

The nurse opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice from the doorway. 

“I did.”

Bobby lept to his feet. “Uncle Press!”

Press smiled warmly, nodded at Courtney, then turned back to the nurse. “Thank you,  _ al-aanisa _ . I can take it from here.”

“ _ Ma'a as-salaama _ ,  _ as-sayyid  _ Press.” She threw a final smile at the other two, then picked up her clipboard and left. 

With a cheerful clap of his hands, Press turned back around and smiled. “So, I guess you guys want an explanation.

“I went back to Solara after our little ‘chat’ the other day and broadened my investigation. Turns out, it was all true: Saint Dane’s dark Solara is gone. Vanished.  _ Kaput _ . For once, the demon wasn’t lying.” He held up a finger to silence Bobby before he could speak. “Not done. Anyways, I was thinking ‘Bobby seems to know what he’s doing. I may not trust his judgement completely, but he was the one there while I was not, so I’ll have to deal.’ And so I decided I needed to stop being such a hard-ass and trust you to make the right decisions.” 

Press smiled at his stupefied nephew. “People can change,” he said. “It may have taken thousands upon thousands of years and a war involving the entire multiverse, but maybe even Saint Dane has a chance to change. I didn’t see that. Now I’m starting to.” 

Bobby threw himself into his uncle’s arms, almost knocking the man down. Press laughed, returning the enthusiastic hug. He ruffled his nephew’s hair before letting him go.

“Wait, now you gotta tell me something,” Bobby said. “How did you do it? Get Saint Dane signed up for therapy and stuff? Doesn’t he like, not exist?”

Press shrugged. “Eh, a little forgery of papers and legal documents and so on and so forth was needed, but it was a piece of cake for a spirit of Solara like me.” He winked. “Like the name? Picked it out myself. Thought the old demon would like the sound of it; he always had a thing for French.” 

They shared a laugh, the tension from all the worry they’d felt in the past few hours--days, even--finally loosening. Press watched Saint Dane sleep, a pensive look on his face. After they’d quieted down a bit, he spoke. 

“I’m serious,” he finally said. “I still don’t trust the man, but if you think you know what you’re doing, I’ll have to go along with it. I’ll reserve judgement, at least until he proves he’s up to no good.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Bobby replied, barely restraining himself from smiling like a maniac. 

Uncle Press stayed a while longer, making idle chit-chat with his nephew and Courtney, before heading off. He claimed there were still a lot of cross-Halla messes he needed to help clean up, and the other Travelers needed to be informed that the war was pretty much over. He reassured Bobby he wouldn’t tell them what was going on with Saint Dane  _ just _ yet, but he did warn him that it needed to be done soon. 

“We can’t keep them in the dark forever,” he said. “They’re gonna have questions, and those questions will need to be answered sooner rather than later.”

Bobby agreed, and Press was off. Bobby and Courtney waited around a bit longer, the silence more comfortable now that some of the issues between them had been hashed out. It was late afternoon when Saint Dane had been admitted to the hospital, and the process of his immediate emergency care had taken a few hours. Visiting hours were long over, but before leaving Press had managed to convince the nurses to let the two stay overnight. The late hour was making itself known, but Bobby was trying to force himself to stay awake for Dane’s sake. 

Midnight was approaching by the time Dane finally awoke. Bobby was nodding off again, his eyes drooping shut, when a soft groan from the bed caught his attention. He was awake and by the bedside in a flash, sleepiness forgotten, before the demon even had a chance to open his eyes. 

“Ugh, where am I?” Dane asked. He tried to sit up, but Bobby pushed him lightly back down into the bed. 

“Hospital,” he answered. “You needed a blood transfusion and stitches, after you…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words ‘attempted suicide’, but Dane got the message. He averted his eyes. He instead looked over at Courtney, who’d been dozing as well, but had woken with the sound of Bobby rushing to the demon’s side. She stood up, avoiding Dane’s vaguely accusatory gaze, and went to the door. 

“You two need to talk, so I’ll just…” She left, quickly and quietly shutting the door behind her. 

Their gazes remained on the door after she shut it until Dane suddenly turned over in his bed, his back to the other and his sheets drawn up over his shoulders. This tugged slightly on the IV line, but Dane didn’t seem to care. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk, but Bobby knew that if they were to get anywhere, they needed to. He just didn’t know where to start. 

“So, uh…” he looked around for something to chat about, unsure of how to start the conversation they needed to have. “How about that hospital food?”

“I haven’t had any of that disgusting so-called ‘food’ and you know it,” Dane snapped. He didn’t turn over, and Bobby felt a spike of irritation. 

“Geez, sorry,” he replied sarcastically. “Didn’t mean to get on your nerves.” 

“You failed the moment you opened your mouth.”

“What is with you? You just woke up! What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

Dane’s shoulders tensed under the sheets. “You know exactly what you did,” he said in a low voice. 

Bobby threw up his hands. “Exist, apparently.” 

“You didn’t let me  _ die _ !” Suddenly the demon was shouting in his face. Bobby flinched, eyes wide, taken aback by the violent display of emotion. 

“Of course I didn’t let you die!” he replied. “I’m trying to  _ help _ you, why would I do that?” 

Dane sneered. “If you truly wanted to help me, you’d stop fighting fate and let me go.” He went to turn back over, therefore ending the conversation, but Bobby wouldn’t have that. 

“No, you don’t get to do that.” He pulled the covers away, standing over the demon who was now glaring daggers. “You don’t get to give me a sour look and hide away anymore. I’m sick of that. You’re gonna act like a grown fucking man and face your problems head on! 

“Look,” Bobby said, plunging onwards despite the heated glare he was getting. “No matter what you think, I  _ am _ trying to help.” He covered Dane’s clenched fist with his own to try and soothe the demon. “I want to understand. Why did you do this? You were getting better, so much better, then all of a sudden, this. Why?”

Dane yanked his hand away from Bobby’s, nearly jerking out the IV needle in the process. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously. “Do you  _ really _ think things like these just go away? Just because I have a warm house, some terrible food, and someone who claims to have my best interests at heart, that my wish for death will just  _ disappear? _ ” He scoffed. “You really are an idiot, Pendragon.”

Bobby bristled. “Hey, man, I’m doing my best! Just because  _ you _ think the best thing is for you to die, doesn’t mean that’s right. Doesn’t mean  _ you’re _ right. Even all-powerful, all-knowing spirits from another plane of existence can be wrong.”

“But you forget:  _ I’m not anymore _ .” Dane’s eyes flashed with manic anger. “I’m not all-powerful anymore, I’m not all-knowing. I’m not even a spirit of Solara anymore! I am an abomination, worth nothing, dying as I speak. It would be better for quite literally  _ all of creation _ if I just died!”

“It wouldn’t be better for  _ me _ , okay?!”

Bobby stopped, breathing heavily. Saint Dane was staring at him, shocked and a little suspicious. Bobby decided that he’d fallen far enough into this hole he’d dug himself, he might as well lay all his cards on the table. 

“You say no one cares, that the world would be better off without you in it. But you’re wrong.” He sat down next to the bed and steeled himself, going to grab the demon’s hand again. This time, Dane didn’t reject the touch. “I’m doing this because  _ I _ care. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if someone I cared about died, and definitely not by their own hand.”

Dane looked down, avoiding Bobby’s earnest gaze. “How could you possibly care for such a creature as me?” he asked softly. 

“Honestly?” Bobby replied. “I have no fucking clue. But I do, and that’s what matters. So if you’re so hell-bent on not caring for yourself, I guess it falls to me to do it for you.” He chuckled. “After all, that’s what friends are for. To call you out on your bullshit and help you even when you don’t want it.”

He squeezed the demon’s hand one last time and sat back as the door opened. Courtney came in, carrying a tray of small cups. 

“Nasty hospital-issued coffee, anyone?” she asked helpfully. Saint Dane turned back over, ignoring her. Bobby shook his head; he needed to get some sleep sometime tonight. Coffee wouldn’t help with that, no matter how watered down it was sure to be. 

Courtney shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She set the tray down and rummaged around in a bag Bobby noticed she hadn’t been carrying earlier. “Here, I brought you something.” She held out the journal Bobby had been trying to write in during his stay. He smiled gratefully and took it. 

“I’d noticed you hadn’t been writing in it much since this all started,” she admitted, sitting down and taking a sip from one of the coffees. “Thought you might want it, so I ran home and grabbed it for you.”

“Thanks.” He opened it to the most recent page, where there were several crossed out sentences. He’d kept trying to start an entry, but didn’t know where to go with it, and had always ended up scrapping it. 

He sighed. He really needed to write  _ something _ down. Might as well do it now, since he had some free time. 

He settled back into the uncomfortable chair and began writing, Saint Dane’s gentle snores acting as a background noise to clear his mind. 

_ “A lot has happened since I last wrote in this, and not all of it’s good…” _

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't yell at me. 
> 
> I know it's been what, three months? I'm so sorry. I lost literally all motivation and inspiration for this story, right at the end. I've had this chapter done for a while, but my dear beta was busy with life, and I didn't know how to finish the chapters after, and basically it all led to one big shitty hole where nothing got done. 
> 
> But hey, after literally pulling an all-nighter, I finished the final chapter (10 chapters guys! Be prepared) and the short epilogue that follows! So technically, this story is finished, and just awaiting editing. 
> 
> So get ready for the most emotion-filled last few chapters, folks. Some things happen. 
> 
> Hobey ho.

A couple of days later, Saint Dane was released from the hospital with a clean bill of health. He was scheduled to start seeing a therapist, their first meeting set for two days from then. He whined and complained, but Bobby promised the doctor they’d be there.

It was a Monday, and Courtney had classes she needed to go to. She didn’t want to leave them alone, but Bobby assured her that they would be okay. She departed with a promise to head home as soon as she could.

That left them with an entire day to themselves. Bobby considered just going back to the house, but the thought of going back there right now made his skin crawl. The paramedics had cleaned up the mess from the incident, but a bad feeling still hung around the place like toxic smog.

Instead, he decided to do something different. On the way home, Bobby suggested they go somewhere for lunch. Dane didn’t answer, having been silent ever since they left the hospital. Bobby took this as a yes and guided them to a little café he’d discovered by chance a few weeks earlier.

“ _Heavenly Blends?_ ” Saint Dane cocked an eyebrow at the sign as they walked up to the little corner shop. “Sounds a bit arrogant if you ask me.”

“At least it got you to say something,” Bobby replied smugly. Dane narrowed his eyes.

“So, what’re you feeling?” He opened the door for the taller man as he glanced over the menu set next to the register. “Cappuccino? Frappuccino? Espresso? Honestly, I don’t know that much about coffee, so you’re on your own here, buddy.”

Dane had stopped talking again, opting instead to stare out the window. Bobby sighed. Back to square one.

He picked the least weird-sounding thing on the menu and ordered two of them, and some breakfast bagels to go with. It was getting close to noon, but this place served breakfast all day, for which Bobby was eternally grateful.

He led Saint Dane to an empty table near the window and sat down. The demon continued to watch out the window, ignoring his companion. Bobby huffed out an exasperated sigh.

They sat in an awkward silence until their orders came. Bobby took a sip and made a face at the bitterness. “Can I have some sugar?” he asked the waitress. She smiled and brought out a tray of sweeteners for him to pick through. He thanked her and she went back to the counter.

“You want any?” he asked Dane, offering a couple packets of sugar. In response, the demon simply picked up his drink and took a sip

“Suit yourself,” Bobby muttered. “Enjoy your bitter bean water.”

Saint Dane snorted, coughing as he set his coffee down.

 _“There_ we go!” Bobby laughed. “Finally got some sort of response out of you!”

Glare. Silence.

_Jeez._

The next half hour was spent in relative quiet, with Bobby occasionally making comments on the food or asking Saint Dane a question, and the demon consequently ignoring him. Bobby finished his bagel off quickly, while Dane preferred to pick his into bite-sized pieces with his fingers and eat it carefully, like it might be poisoned. He somehow managed to not get cheese and egg everywhere- an impressive feat.

Bobby yawned and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and looking out the window. A car passed by, a bit above the speed limit. Probably someone in a rush to get to work, this late in the morning. Maybe they had slept in after a long night. He wondered about their life, perfectly  normal compared to his own.

A jingling from his pocket broke his train of thought. He pulled his phone out, checking the caller ID. It was Courtney.

“Hey,” he said, answering. “I thought you were at school.”

 _“I am,”_ came the reply. “ _I had to leave in the middle of a lecture though, ‘cause I got a message in from Zadaa. Loor’s coming.”_

Bobby almost dropped his phone. “What?!”

_“Saangi sent me a message through the ring. Apparently Press made a visit and told Loor some things that set her on edge, so she’s leaving immediately. Saangi says she didn’t overhear and doesn’t know what’s wrong, but I think I have a good idea of what Press said.”_

Bobby cursed. He’d thought that when he and Press agreed to not tell the other Travelers everything yet, he’d keep his word. Apparently Loor was an exception. He understood why, but still. She was probably on her way to kick his ass right now.

“Courtney, I-” he started, but stopped as something caught his eye outside of the cafe’s front window. _Speak of the devil._ “I gotta go. Bye.” Without waiting for an answer, he hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. Saint Dane gave him a curious look. He followed Bobby’s gaze, and stiffened.

Loor was stomping across the street towards them.

She looked _pissed_.

Dane sat frozen in his seat as the door was thrown open with a violent jingle, the remains of his brunch forgotten. Loor marched straight for their table. Before they could do anything, she reeled back and punched Saint Dane straight in the face.

Bobby leaped to his feet as the demon’s head snapped to one side from the force of the hit. _“Loor!”_

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she said evenly, rubbing her stinging knuckles. She sat down in the seat next to the one Bobby had just vacated and folded her hands on the table in front of her. Without breaking eye contact with the demon in front of her, she said “Sit down. Speak. Now.”

Bobby sat back down, though not without a note of caution. Saint Dane rubbed his jaw, checking for broken bones. Bobby wouldn’t be surprised if he had spat out a tooth or two, but everything seemed to be in order.

Bobby took a breath and began, skimming through the events of the past week or so. He skimmed through details she’d already heard from Press, and made sure to skip certain… incidents he didn’t think she’d be interested in knowing the specifics about. He made sure to let her know about Saint Dane’s fragile mental state, though he didn’t say so in as many words, as the man was sitting right in front of them.

Throughout his tale, Dane didn’t move. He had his eyes locked on Loor, his back stiff, his body completely motionless. If Bobby didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked scared. Hell, he _did_ know better. Dane _was_ scared. He was scared shitless, and if he hadn’t spent nearly the entirety of the past week watching the man, he’d have been none the wiser.

Saint Dane had a strange way of expressing his feelings. He almost always wore a mask of emotion- rage or irritation or smug superiority present when literally anyone was looking. When he didn’t, he schooled his features into an unreadable, blank wall. It was infuriating, and made it hell to find out what he was thinking, which was probably just what the man was going for.

But spending so much time around him had had some advantages-- one of which was learning all the little imperfections in the mask. While his face gave no indication of his inner thoughts, his eyes told a different story. A far fainter, barely-there story, but a different one nonetheless, that became clearer the longer Bobby spent observing.

It was scarcely a flicker in those ice-blue depths, but it was there now. Saint Dane was terrified.

And rightly so. Bobby believed that if he hadn’t been there, Loor would have already killed the demon. As he told his story, she never once looked away from the man sitting across from them. He could feel the coiled tension radiating off her, begging to spring across the table and strangle Dane. He kept himself prepared to grab her if that happened, though he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold her back if she attacked. The years of war had put him in pretty good shape, but he doubted his ability to hold his own against the great warrior of Zadaa.

He finished talking, and an awkward silence settled over the trio. Loor had her eyes still narrowed on the demon, making it impossible to gauge her reaction to the whole thing. Saint Dane still had a hand on his jaw, his face carefully blank, but Bobby could see the faintest flicker of panic in his eyes when Loor finally moved.

She turned to Bobby. “Come,” she ordered, standing. “Let us speak in private.”

He followed her to a corner of the café where no one was sitting, but where they could still see Saint Dane. He watched them go, relaxing slightly as Loor put some distance between them.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Loor turned to him. “I am going to be clear with you,” she began. “I am not the best person to give advice of the emotional kind. My specialty lies in fighting, not feelings. You know this already.”

Bobby nodded.

“You also know that I would not trust Saint Dane as far as I could throw him,” she continued. “I do not trust him at all, and I believe you might be making a grave mistake in taking him in. However…”

Loor looked back at their table, where Dane had resumed picking at what was left of his meal. He felt eyes on him and glanced up, only to look out the window to avoid Loor’s gaze. She sighed.

“However, I am willing to reserve judgement for now, if this is of such importance to you.” She touched his arm- a light, comforting gesture. “I do not trust him, but I trust _you_ , and I trust you to protect yourself if he does anything.”

“You know, Press told me the same thing,” Bobby said with a short laugh. “Courtney too. Apparently everyone thinks I make bad decisions.”

“You do,” Loor replied, “but you also learn from them. And more often than not, you make those situations better.”

Bobby smiled, Loor returning the fond look after a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a yawn. He covered his mouth, shaking his head to wake himself up.

Loor looked concerned. “Are you alright?” she asked. “Did you not sleep well?”

“I’m fine,” Bobby said, waving off her concern. “All the worry of the past few days is finally catching up to me, I guess.”

They went back to their table, where Saint Dane was resolutely staring out the window. Bobby sat, but Loor remained on her feet. She snapped her fingers to gain Dane’s attention. He glanced back at her, schooling his features into a mask of irritation, but didn’t say anything.

“If you try anything,” she began, her voice low from the not-so-thinly-veiled threat, “you will find yourself in a far worse existence than the one you keep whining about now.”

Dane gulped, a tiny motion that went unnoticed by all but Bobby, and nodded minutely. He turned back to the window.

Loor nodded, satisfied, and bid them goodbye.

Bobby watched her out the café window as she left, headed in the relative direction of the Sherwood house and the flume that would take her home. Dane watched too, though he was less obvious about it. The tension drained from him as she got further away, and he sagged against his seat as she turned a corner and disappeared. Bobby laughed aloud at his relieved expression, earning a sour glare.

“She really clocked you there, didn’t she?” Bobby asked, trying to reign in his giggles lest the barista think he’s lost his mind.

Saint Dane scowled. “If you speak of this to anyone-”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Bobby said dismissively. “You’ll hurt me, make my existence a living hell, yadda yadda yadda. Pretty much the same thing Loor just said to you, right?”

He cackled at the demon’s affronted expression. A flash of something--amusement, maybe?--flickered in Dane’s eyes, before once again disappearing behind annoyance.

“When you’re finished making a fool out of yourself in a public place,” he said, “I would like to return to Courtney’s house. Despite sleeping near-nonstop during my stay at that hospital, I am still tired and would like to rest.”

Bobby agreed, feeling a bit worn out himself. He called their waitress over and paid for their food, Saint Dane sticking close behind him. The door opened, admitting a large family with several rowdy kids. Bobby felt an icy hand curl around his arm. Without thinking, he reached up and squeezed it comfortingly. Dane let out a huff of breath at the action, but didn’t let go until the family had moved past to be seated.

He stuck close to Bobby as they left, not speaking a word on the short walk home, but not acting hostile, either. It was a marked improvement, in Bobby’s opinion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are on a roll, people! I'm so excited to get this story finished, and with the rate we've been editing, it shouldn't be long!
> 
> I uploaded this to fanfiction.net earlier this morning, but my chromebook is messed up, so I had to wait for my virus-riddled Mac to charge up so I could use it. The things I do for you people...
> 
> JK, I love you all. 
> 
> Enjoy the show!

 

_ Tick, tock. _

_ Tick, tock. _

Bobby glanced up at the clock. They’d been sitting in relative silence for about an hour, with absolutely nothing to show for it. He let out a breath and settled back in his armchair, prepared to spend another hour in exactly the same way as the last. 

Saint Dane shifted slightly in the seat next to him, but otherwise stayed perfectly still. His hands were folded in his lap, his spine straight. He wore a dark three-piece suit, bought that morning for this exact visit. His long, silver hair was brushed and pulled back in a neat ponytail at the base of his neck. He was the picture of formality and professionalism, completely out of place in this room.  

It was a cluttered therapist’s office, cozy in its decoration, smelling faintly of lavender. The walls were mint green, painted with designs of vines and other plant life. Their feet sank into the plush beige carpet. Pictures hung on the walls- photos of beautiful landscapes, crayon drawings done by children, abstract splashes of calming colors. A shelf behind them, near the door, held stacks of mismatched books, odds and ends scattered among them. A wooden cabinet leaned against the wall behind the desk. 

The therapist who sat across from them looked much the same way as her office felt. Dr. Mary Joy was a short, stout woman, her wild orange hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Oversized glasses perched precariously on her round nose. She wore a similarly-oversized blue patterned sweater, the tops of colorful socks peeking from her brown hiking boots. She wore no jewelry, except for a tiny silver necklace in the shape of a bird’s skull. 

She was currently sitting back in her chair, feet up on her desk, clipboard in her lap. She’d started the session by writing down something every once in awhile, but as the minutes ticked by in silence, she’d switched to chewing on the end of her pen. She was eyeing Saint Dane, but didn’t speak. 

The session had begun much the same way it was now. They’d entered, sat down, and introduced themselves. Well, Bobby had introduced both himself and Dane, since the demon refused to speak to Dr. Joy. They’d had an argument on the drive there, Dane claiming he didn’t need ‘mortal therapy’ and that it was a waste of time and money and everyone’s energy. Bobby had resolutely ignored him, driving to the office anyways. Saint Dane had devolved into silence, glaring out the window, and hadn’t really done much else since they’d gotten there. 

The doctor had started out with all the usual questions: what had brought him here, if he had he seen any other counselors before, how he was feeling- the usual. When Saint Dane refused to answer, she’d said that they didn’t have to talk about that just yet if he didn’t want to. They could talk about anything he wanted. 

Dane still didn’t answer, which had led them to their current staring contest. Bobby sat in awkward silence between the two of them, unsure of what to do. His eyes passed over the spines of the books on the nearby bookcase, but no titles popped out at him. There were books about how to deal with varying mental conditions, some children’s books, and a couple of those coloring books for adults that are supposed to relieve stress. He looked back to his lap. 

Dr. Joy checked the clock on the wall again and scribbled something on her clipboard. Saint Dane watched her with thinly veiled suspicion, which he’d done every time she went to write something down. Neither of them could see the front of the clipboard from the way it was angled, but Dane still watched carefully.

She finished and set it down on her desk, removing her feet and sitting up. Bobby perked up. This was the most activity they’d had in over half an hour. 

She stretched, cracking several joints in her neck and back that probably shouldn’t have cracked. Saint Dane watched her every step as she went to the cabinet behind her desk and opened it. After rummaging around a moment, she brought out an electric kettle and a mug she set on her desk. 

“Do you want any?” she asked, gesturing inside the cabinet to some spare mugs, along with a few boxes of tea. 

Bobby glanced at Saint Dane out of the corner of his eye, and, seeing his lack of response, answered for them both. “Yes, we would,” he said. “What do you have?”

“Several different flavors of chamomile, some oolong, this fruity stuff from Brazil-- my son gave me that one. I think I have a few bags of Earl Grey left? No, wait. My last patient finished that off.” She rummaged through the boxes before pulling out a plain-looking one and offering it to them. “I recommend passionflower. It helps reduce stress and relax the mind.”

Dane ignored the box. Dr. Joy looked at Bobby, who nodded, so she set it down next to the kettle. Pulling out two more mugs, she closed the cabinet door and went about preparing the tea. They sat in silence for a minute until it beeped, signaling the water was done heating up. She filled three mugs, put the teabags in, and slid two of them across the desk along with a small jar of sugar and a spoon. 

Dr. Joy stirred her tea and gestured to Dane’s cup with her spoon. “Go on. Aren’t you going to drink?” she asked. 

Dane leveled a glare at her and turned back to the wall, resolutely ignoring her. Bobby touched his shoulder. 

“Please,” he said. 

The demon’s glare lost some of its intensity. He rolled his eyes and snatched his mug from the desk, lifting it to his lips and downing half the cup in one gulp. Bobby hoped it burned his tongue with how stubborn he was being, but Dane gave no indication, instead setting it right back down where it was and resuming his staring contest with the wall. 

Bobby sighed. “I’m sorry he’s acting like a stubborn kid,” he told the therapist. 

“It’s okay,” she replied, pushing a stray lock of orange hair behind her ear. “Most patients are like this when they first come to talk. They come to me for help because they know they need it, but when the time comes to spill, suddenly it’s like their mouth’s been sewn shut. I understand.”

Saint Dane stiffened. “I don’t need  _ help _ ,” he growled. “I told you already, I didn’t want to come here. I’m  _ fine _ .”

“No, you’re not,” Bobby said. “Those bandages around your wrists say otherwise.”

Dane fiddled with the edge of one of the bandages and crossed his arms, effectively hiding them from view. He didn’t respond. 

“Come on, man, you’re gonna have to talk eventually,” Bobby said, getting even more frustrated when Dane shook his head. “You’re acting like a child. It’ll be easier for all of us if you just tell Dr. Joy what’s wrong, and we can get out of here faster. That’s what you want, right?”

“Fine!” Dane shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “You want my life story? Alright, I’ll tell you!” He stood abruptly. “Lately I’ve been feeling weak and powerless, like I can’t control my life, and so I thought, ‘Why don’t I end it? Everyone around me hates me and now I do too, so where would the harm in that be?’ Well apparently, that was the tipping point, because dear old Bobby Pendragon, the man I’ve hated since as long as I can remember--and I’m sure the feeling is mutual--decided to save my ass and now I can’t die!” 

He began pacing across the tiny office, gesturing wildly as he spoke. “I can’t do anything right, and every time I move, everyone around me acts like I’m either going to break or go on a killing rampage! And  _ best _ of all, since he took me in, I’ve been so horribly dependent on Pendragon that I nearly have a panic attack whenever we’re apart for too long! My life is falling apart- no, wait. It fell apart long ago, when I decided taking over the universe was a good idea. Well, stupid me, because look where that got me: a dingy little shrink’s office on backwater Second Earth, where I can’t do anything myself and still feel like dying every time I look at your face!”

By the end of his rant, he was breathing heavily. Bobby’s mouth had dropped open in shock at the outburst, even though he had already known most of Dane’s feelings. He looked to Dr. Joy, but she looked as calm as ever. She scribbled something on her clipboard but set it down before Saint Dane could see, and folded her hands in front of her. 

“Thank you for opening up to me,” she said, smiling softly.

Saint Dane could only nod and sit back down, a tiny bit calmer than before. 

“I understand that this can be hard, baring your soul for a stranger, but that’s what I’m here for. I don’t know you, or anything about you. But I do know how the human mind works, and that sometimes it’s best you don’t know the person you’re talking to.” She took off her glasses and began to clean them on the edge of her sweater. “I am here to give you an unbiased opinion on yourself, to act as a sounding board. Sometimes the best therapy lies in just having someone to listen to you and not speak back at all. And,” she added, slipping her glasses back on and smiling, “sometimes you can figure the problem out yourself, if you just speak it out loud. Sometimes you don’t want to admit it. Sometimes you need to hear it from your own lips to realize there  _ is _ a problem. 

Saint Dane went silent again, though this time it was more a thoughtful silence than a stubborn one. Bobby felt like whooping with joy.  _ Finally _ , the demon was listening! They might just be able to get something good done today after all. 

“...Bobby?” It was spoken so softly, he almost missed it. 

“Yeah?”

Dane seemed to come to a decision, and glanced at the door. “Could you… leave for a bit? Just for a while?”

Bobby’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Um, sure?” he said, standing up. He looked at Dr. Joy, who nodded towards the door. He shrugged and went to it, closing it gently behind him and cutting off their muffled whispers. 

He waited in the comfy lobby for almost an hour as they talked. By the time Saint Dane finally came back, he’d gone through every magazine in the tray, counted the leaves painted on the walls, and beaten his high score on Candy Crush. He was about ready to fall asleep, and hearing the door open was a godsend to his boredom. 

Saint Dane wandered out of the office, looking dazed and thoughtful. He blinked at seeing Bobby waiting in the lobby, probably thinking he’d already left. Bobby stood as he came closer. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. “You guys were in there a while. Did you get everything you needed done? I mean, you don’t have to tell me what you guys talked about, since I know it was private and all, but-”

Dane put up a hand to stop Bobby’s rambling. Bobby’s mouth snapped shut abruptly, as he suddenly remembered how Dane felt about unnecessary personal questions. He expected anger on the demon’s part, or at least mild irritation, but Dane just looked tired. And… relieved?

“Let’s just go home,” he said softly. 

Bobby shrugged and gestured toward the door. “After you.” 

They left after getting the note from the receptionist to return Saturday for Dane’s next appointment. Throughout the whole car ride home to Stony Brook, Dane never spoke, instead watching the scenery pass by in thoughtful silence. 

Bobby never even noticed he’d called Courtney’s house ‘home’. 

* * *

Dinner that night was uneventful. Ever since they had gotten back from the hospital, each night had been filled with a tense, tangible silence, no one speaking for fear of breaking the fragile peace. Saint Dane would eat with them, quiet as always, and retire to the living room as soon as his plate was clean- sometimes even before then. Bobby and Courtney never talked, never knowing what to talk about, and the dishes were cleaned and put away in similar fashion.

That night was different, if only slightly. They made small talk, asking about the weather and their respective days. Courtney told of someone who’d fallen asleep during the lecture that day, and how the professor tried to see how many books she could balance on his head before he woke up. Bobby mentioned that the weatherman said it was supposed to snow sometime next week, and how he planned to clean out the fireplace for use. Saint Dane listened in calm quietude, nodding and giving simple answers when prompted. No one mentioned the therapy, and no one needed to. They’d made a silent agreement to leave it out of conversation until Dane was ready to bring it up himself. 

After, they all retired to their separate rooms. Bobby sat in bed for a while, writing in his journal. He made note of the visit earlier that day, but left out the details for the time being. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the events, especially since he still had no idea what Dane and Dr. Joy had talked about after he’d left. But those were questions for later. 

He finished writing and put the journal away in the bedside table, then turned off his lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from a streetlight outside the window, shaded by curtains. Bobby curled up under the covers and closed his eyes. 

He was awoken a short time later by his bedroom door clicking open. He’d always been a light sleeper, a habit ingrained in him from the long years of the war, and was fully alert in seconds. The door shut quietly, and whoever had entered shuffled towards the bed. Bobby had his back to the door, and couldn’t see who it was. They shuffled over, socked feet scuffing on the plush carpet, and bumped into the edge of the bed. 

The mattress dipped as the person lay down behind Bobby. They curled up behind him, close but not quite touching. The coldness radiating off their body gave away their identity. 

Bobby turned over, propping himself up on one elbow. “Saint Dane? What are you doing in here?”

The demon was curled up on top of the sheets, long, gangly legs and arms folded into a surprisingly small space. The darkness of the room cast his features in deep shadows. As Bobby’s eyes adjusted, he saw that Saint Dane looked drained. 

“It’s…” Dane sighed and shook his head. “It is nothing.”

Bobby frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. “It obviously  _ is _ something, otherwise you wouldn’t be in here.”

Dane shook his head again, hiding his face in the pillow. His voice was muffled when he said “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Bobby still wanted to press him, but realized that the demon was vulnerable right now, and that that would be a bad idea. He nodded. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Mumbled affirmation. Bobby thought of turning back over and ignoring the demon, going back to sleep, but changed his mind. Instead, he settled down, facing Saint Dane and said “Hey.” The demon looked up. Bobby held the edge of the blanket up for him, a clear invitation. “Come on. It’s chilly out there.”

Dane looked hesitant, but accepted the offer anyway, crawling under the blankets but making sure to keep a reasonable distance between the two of them. He lay stiffly, turned on his side and facing the door. Bobby rolled his eyes and shifted closer, wrapping his arms around the stubborn demon. 

“Relax,” he said when Dane flinched away. “I’m not gonna bite.” 

It took a minute, but the tension finally drained out of the demon’s body. He settled back into Bobby’s arms, seemingly melting into the soft pillow and warm embrace. Bobby shifted closer until they were chest-to-back, sleepiness making him a lot more cuddly than he would normally be. He nuzzled the crook of Dane’s neck, breathing in the demon’s husky scent. 

“You need a shower,” he mumbled without thinking. 

The silence broke. Saint Dane laughed out loud, causing the tense silence between them to dissipate. Bobby joined in, too tired to worry about how ridiculous they were being. He giggled, burying his face in the demon’s back to try and muffle himself, but something about that just made Dane laugh harder, which in turn affected Bobby. Soon there were tears in their eyes, Bobby’s sides ached, and Dane was struggling to turn over without elbowing him in the face. 

Loud banging on the wall had them shutting up quickly. “Quit the noise, boys!” Courtney’s muffled voice shouted through the wall. “Go the fuck to sleep already!” 

They looked at one another and immediately burst out laughing again. Bobby struggled to cover Dane’s mouth but his hands kept slipping as fits of giggles overtook him. “Okay, mom!” he called, which didn’t help matters any. Courtney banged on the wall a couple more times before they managed to get themselves under control and quiet down. 

They settled down, now facing each other. Saint Dane’s eyes flashed like ice chips in the dark, nearly glowing with happiness. Bobby found himself leaning forward until their breaths mingled, wrapping his arms around the waist of the taller man. His skin was still flushed, his breathing a little heavy, and worry lines creased his face from everything he’d been through today, and Bobby felt such adoration welling up inside him that without thinking, he tilted his head up, pressing their lips together. 

He thought he had made a mistake when Dane stilled, but the demon relaxed into the kiss and pushed back hesitantly. Bobby smiled and pulled back, looking into his former worst enemy’s confused eyes a moment, before burying his head in the man’s chest and letting out the breath he’d been holding. 

“You’re a sap, you know that?” he asked, not moving his face from where it rested. 

Dane chuckled, the sound rumbling right next to Bobby’s ear. “So you say.” 

Bobby shifted, tangling their legs and lacing his fingers behind the demon’s back. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting sleep fall over him like a warm blanket while Saint Dane’s fingers ran gently through his hair. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks. My dear beta has been low on energy these past few week. I took over editing for her using this new fangled website I found, but it's nowhere near as great as it'll be once she's back on her feet. We'll go over it again when she's better, but for now, I think I've made you wait long enough.
> 
> On with the show!

 

Bobby awoke to the smell of something cooking. His first thought was about the serious case of déjà vu the scent brought on. His second was realizing that it wasn't burning, so it probably didn't count. His third was that he needed to stop talking to himself and get up already or people would think he'd lost his mind.

He stretched leisurely, feeling his vertebrae crack, and let out a sigh of satisfaction. A stray memory poked at his mind, the past night's curious events surfacing. He looked over, but the other side of the bed was empty. No great surprise there. Saint Dane had seemed pretty out of it last night. Upon waking he had probably realized that Bobby would want to talk about _feelings_ and stuff, and got the hell out of there. It was expected, but Bobby was still a bit disappointed.

The demon had been surprisingly... _cuddly_ last night, and while Bobby wasn't going to complain, it was still a little weird. The Saint Dane he knew, even if he'd been seriously depressed recently, wouldn't in a thousand years be straight up _cuddly._ They'd laughed until their sides were sore at something stupid and snuggled up under the covers like a happy couple. The guy had even accepted a kiss from a sleep deprived Bobby without making it sexual or pulling away or anything. Again, not that Bobby was complaining, he just thought it was a little odd.

He snapped awake again at a laugh from the kitchen. His musings had made him start dozing off. He groaned and shifted, not wanting to get out of his warm bed, but knew that if he didn't now his sleep schedule would be screwed. He sat up anyways, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he fumbled with his phone on the nightstand.

Bobby blinked, thinking he had seen the time on the tiny LED screen wrong. _One o'clock? What the fuck?_ He never woke up after eight, ten if he was feeling particularly lazy. Why would he oversleep this bad?

He shook his head and got up, his stomach deciding for him that the mystery could wait. He was hungry, and that amazing smell was still wafting into his room. He threw some pajama pants on over his boxers and a t-shirt and followed the smell into the kitchen.

When he walked in on the scene, he was hit in the face with the absolute _normalcy_ of it. Courtney was sitting on the counter, digging into a plate of scrambled eggs and trying not to choke as she laughed at a joke. A joke that Saint Dane was telling.

While he cooked breakfast.

With music playing?

_Congratulations, Bobby. You've finally gone off the deep end._ He shook his head and turned around to leave, stopping when Courtney noticed him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get some fever medicine," Bobby replied. "I'm clearly hallucinating."

To his amazement, Saint Dane was the one that laughed. The usually stone-faced demon snorted into his oven mitt, lips quirking in what had to be the most sincere smile Bobby had _ever_ seen him wear. It was stunning, infectious, and Bobby felt himself joining in their laughter without fully understanding what was going on.

"But seriously," he asked, leaning against the counter across from Courtney. "What are you doing? Why are you cooking breakfast?"

"Maybe I was feeling particularly frisky and bored with you sleeping and only Chetwynde here for company," Dane offered, sliding the omelette he'd been cooking onto a second plate and avoiding a swat from Courtney. "Maybe I felt I should repay you two after all you've done for me, and cooking breakfast while you got your beauty sleep seemed like a good idea." He pressed the plate and a fork into Bobby's hands, fingers brushing for a moment before he let go. "Or maybe I was just hungry," he added with a wink.

Bobby blinked and took the plate, half-asleep mind trying to catch up as Dane flashed him a dazzling smile and went about preparing his own plate. He shook his head and followed Courtney, who had hopped off the counter and gone to sit at the table. He sat down and poked at the omelette with his fork, still unsure of the man's sudden change in attitude.

The radio in the kitchen went to commercial. Dane turned it off, before grabbing his own plate and sitting down next to Bobby. Their knees brushed under the table, though Dane gave no indication that he noticed. He dug in, cutting the omelette into neat triangles before spearing them with his fork and bringing them to his mouth. His eating was very methodical, mesmerizing, and Bobby felt himself nodding off.

Fingers snapped in front of his face. Bobby jerked up, meeting Courtney gaze. "You okay?" she asked, worry creasing her brow. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah." Bobby rubbed his eyes yawning. "I dunno. I think I slept weird. Who knows. I'm fine."

Courtney went back to her plate. "I could get you some sleeping medicine tonight, if it'll help any," she offered.

"Thanks."

Saint Dane, who had been quiet during this, touched Bobby's shoulder to get his attention. "Try the food," he said, gesturing to Bobby's plate. "I didn't quite know what I was doing, so I looked through one of Courtney's cookbooks for reference. Tell me what you think."

Bobby shrugged and complied. He cut off a piece and stuck it in his mouth, then choked. It was _spicy!_ The sharp bite was quickly covered up by a burst of flavor, and Bobby almost moaned from the taste.

"What did you even put in this?" he asked, taking another bite even before he'd finished the first one.

Saint Dane looked away before Bobby could see the slight blush staining his cheeks. "Just some ingredients I found around the kitchen. Not all of the items mentioned in the recipe were here, so I improvised where necessary." He took a bite of his own and smiled, bumping their knees together. "I also added a dash of chili pepper powder to the mixture. Thought it might add a bit of character to the eggs."

He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, trying not to look every bit the eager child he was acting like. "Is it… acceptable?" he asked hesitantly.

Bobby set his fork down and stared at Saint Dane with a straight face. "No, it's terrible and I hate it," he deadpanned, before throwing his hands in the air and grinning. "It's fucking _delicious!_ I didn't know you could cook this well, especially after the disaster that first morning. I love it!"

Dane laughed again, nearly glowing from the praise. He covered Bobby's hand with his own and murmured "Thank you."

The contact was unexpected, but Bobby didn't dare shy away. He loved how open and inviting the man was being this morning, and didn't want him to close up again. He turned his hand over and twined their fingers together without looking, making it look like he was just eating his food. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dane staring at their hands with an unreadable look on his face.

Courtney was watching them. Bobby looked back, silently daring her to say anything. She opened her mouth, but changed her mind and closed it, sending him a soft smile from across the table. She nodded, almost to herself, and went back to eating her scrambled eggs.

"He made some bacon before you got up, but I ate most of it," she instead said. "Not sorry. That's what you get for sleeping in so late."

"I did manage to save a few pieces from her wrath," Saint Dane spoke up, squeezing Bobby's hand and glaring playfully at Courtney. "I chopped them up and put them in your omelette, just to make sure she didn't try to steal them again."

"Thanks," Bobby said. He honestly wouldn't have minded if Courtney ate it all, but the fact that Saint Dane went out of his way to save some for him made him feel warm inside. Or it might have been the chili powder.

"So wait," Bobby said while cutting another piece off his omelette. "Why are you up this late, Courtney?"

She shrugged. "It's my day off," she replied, pushing eggs around on her plate. "I usually get up around noon on days like this, when I don't have anything to do. The real question here is why Saint Dane was awake so early, 'cause he was already up and cooking when I got up."

They both looked to the demon for an answer. He looked away. "I… don't know." He abruptly stood and took his plate into the kitchen, still speaking. "I awoke and found myself feeling productive."

"Yeah, and you cleaned the entire house while you were at it," Courtney added.

Bobby looked around, shocked. He hadn't noticed it when he walked in, but she was right. The dining room and kitchen were spotless, and leaning back in his chair brought into view the similarly-clean living room. The pile of blankets Dane had been nesting in the past week or so were folded neatly on the arm of the couch. The carpet even looked vacuumed, though he didn't see how the demon could have done that without waking him up. He must've been really out of it.

Courtney noticed him looking at the ground. "Yeah, that's what woke me up," she said, laughing. "By the time I got dressed and stuff he was already on to cooking. I'm just surprised he even knows how to use the vacuum cleaner."

"I'm not completely useless," Saint Dane called from the kitchen. The sounds of running water and clinking dishes followed.

"Yeah, you make a mean scrambled eggs _and_ clean house." Courtney raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I might just have to keep you around after all."

Bobby smiled at their easy banter. He couldn't believe it. They were finally warming up to each other. They might be able to be friends after all, instead of going at each other's throats every five minutes. That would be a nice change of pace.

Saint Dane swept back into the dining room and picked up their empty plates. When he passed, his hand ghosted along the back of Bobby's neck. It was just a feather-light touch, gone before he could process it, but it left goosebumps in its wake. Bobby looked up at Dane, a question clear on his face. Courtney had pulled out her phone and was talking about something they might do together that day, but Bobby wasn't paying attention. She didn't see as the demon stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and winked before disappearing, and she sure as hell didn't see Bobby's face heat up with a vibrant blush.

"-might stop to get groceries first. What do you think?"

Bobby started, realizing he was spacing out again. Courtney was looking at him expectantly. He nodded. "Yeah, sounds good," he mumbled, standing up. She gave him a weird look, but shrugged and stood up anyways. Grabbing her purse from the coffee table, she waved at Bobby over her shoulder.

"I'll be back soon," she said, digging her car keys out of the side pocket and flipping them into the air. "I'm just gonna pick up the essentials, maybe some ingredients for a casserole tonight, who knows." She smiled, laughing a little. "Now that we know Saint Dane is a halfway decent cook, we might be able to eat more than Chef Boyardee."

She left, and the house went silent. The sound of running water had stopped, and no more noise was coming from the kitchen. Bobby wandered into the kitchen, curiosity piqued, a vague sense of anticipation following him.

Slender arms slid around his waist when he entered. A warm body pressed up against his back, someone's nose tickling his neck. Bobby laughed at the sensation, turning his head to look at Saint Dane.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what's with the sudden-"

Bobby was interrupted by a cold pair of lips pressing against his. He had to stop himself from pulling back out of confusion, instead smiling into the kiss and turning fully around. Dane's hands settled on his waist, pulling him closer as he gently nipped at Bobby's bottom lip. Bobby chuckled and opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. He wound his arms around Dane's neck, lazily kissing the demon.

He had to wonder why Saint Dane was doing this. He'd been so closed off and moody ever since this whole mess started. They hadn't gotten any closer, hadn't really _done_ anything since that incident after the panic attack a few days ago, before the hospital. And that didn't count in Bobby's book, since it was more something born out of frustration and built-up sexual tension.

Last night could have been chalked up to exhaustion. Bobby was planning on counting it as such, until... well, now. Now he wasn't so sure it was all an accident, and wasn't completely intentional. Saint Dane was up to something.

Though if they kept going on like this, Bobby wouldn't be thinking that for much longer. He probably wouldn't be thinking much of anything.

Saint Dane pushed at him insistently. Bobby let himself be guided backwards to the counter, where the demon kept pushing. Bobby broke the kiss long enough to lift himself up onto the counter, which brought them to eye level. He looked into Dane's ice blue eyes.

For the first time since he could remember, they looked _alive_. No bone-deep exhaustion, no weary defensiveness, no antagonistic anger. They looked bright and clear and happy, and so so _alive._ Bobby felt that same happiness welling up inside him.

He leaned forward and captured Dane's lips again, easier now that he was on the counter. The demon braced his hands on either side of Bobby and slid closer, between his legs. Bobby linked his arms around the other man's neck again and pulled him closer.

Dane pressed him into the counter, kisses growing heated and sloppy. Their breaths mingled between them when they pulled apart for breath, immediately joining again. Dane cupped the back of Bobby's head, slender fingers sliding through brown locks and massaging his scalp. Bobby shivered.

Fingers trailed down his neck, and Bobby released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. They pushed the side of his shirt aside, exposing his shoulder. Saint Dane broke the kiss, trailing his lips across Bobby's cheek and down his neck, stopping suddenly where it met his shoulder. He chuckled.

"W-What?" Bobby asked, blinking confusedly. He pulled away and tried to see what Dane was laughing at.

"Nothing," the demon responded. "I just noticed that you still have a fading bruise from… last time."

Bobby blushed. He hadn't realized Saint Dane had left a hickey during their little stunt the other day. "Shit, you think anyone saw it?" he asked. "I've been walking around with it for days!"

Dane shook his head. "I hadn't noticed. It's below the collar of your shirt." He trailed his fingertips along the spot and Bobby shuddered as the tender flesh was poked. "Unless you've been shirtless around someone recently, no one knows but me."

"Mm." Hearing that gave Bobby a devilish idea. With Saint Dane so occupied examining the mark he made, Bobby decided the demon needed one of his own. He dragged his tongue along the man's jawline, nipping at a spot under his ear. Dane wasn't expecting this and flinched, subconsciously tilting his head, giving Bobby better access.

In the crook of the demon's pale neck, right where a shirt would barely cover, Bobby bit down hard. Dane yelped, fingers clenching in Bobby's hair, which just made Bobby dig his teeth in harder. He let go, tongue swiping over the angry red mark. The demon let out a shuddering breath.

"You're a little bastard," he mumbled, gripping Bobby's knee to steady himself.

Bobby hummed, already nosing higher, leaving lighter nips and marks as he went. The demon's neck was long and porcelain-white, unmarred, and Bobby wanted every inch of it marked as his. He dragged his teeth over Saint Dane's pulse, where it fluttered rapidly under the thin skin. Dane moaned, hips shifting forward at the contact.

Fate chose that moment to step in and stop them. The doorbell rang, startling them into almost knocking heads. Bobby groaned and sat back, glaring in the general direction of the front door.

"I love constantly being interrupted," Saint Dane grumbled, but took a step back anyways.

Bobby slid down and smiled apologetically. He stepped forward and ran his hands up Dane's chest, settling them on his shoulders. "Don't worry," he said, thumbing the fresh mark he'd just made with pride. "Courtney probably just forgot her keys or something. I'll be back in a minute, and we can finish where we left off."

He winked and stepped out of the kitchen, taking a breath to steady himself and organize his thoughts. He made sure nothing looked too out of place, then went to the door.

"Hey Courtney, I- _Uncle Press?"_

Press laughed at his nephew's bewildered expression and stepped past him into the house. "Yep, it's me. Hope I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Bobby almost blushed, but managed to quash it down and feign ignorance. He closed the door behind his uncle and followed him as he walked into the living room. "No, we're good. Courtney's out shopping. What did you want?"

Press perched on the arm of the couch. "Well, as you know, the war for Halla is pretty much over. With Saint Dane's 'reformation'" -he used air quotes at this, like he didn't fully believe it- "Solara is pretty much completely rejuvenated. The negative energy has dispersed, returning to the mix like it was before. The territories are still a little worse for wear, but the Travelers are working on that.

"Speaking of the other Travelers, they're starting to get concerned." Press crossed his arms, looking every bit the stern uncle part he'd been playing for years. "I know I told you to tell them on your own time, but they're getting worried," he said. "They've neither seen nor heard from you for the past week and a half, except for Loor. She's been sworn to secrecy for now, but who knows how long that'll hold out. With something this big hanging over her head, there's no telling when she'll cave.

"None of them know what to do, with Solara restored and Saint Dane seemingly disappeared off the face of Halla. They're looking to me for answers. I can't give that to them. Only you can."

Bobby grimaced. "Yeah, I know. I need to tell them. I just don't know how." He shook his head, sighing. "How do I tell these people, who've been fighting an endless war for god knows how long, that their worst enemy has had a change of heart and is now living with me? If that's even how you'd put it."

"Well, you're gonna have to figure it out soon, because guess what." Press was now smiling, which was always a bad thing in situations like this.

Bobby groaned. "Please don't tell me-"

"Yep!" Press stood and gestured towards the front door. "Traveler meeting. We haven't had one of these in years, and now would be the best time to tell them. Unless you want them to come seeking you out themselves?"

Bobby glanced toward the kitchen, where he'd left Saint Dane. He was banging around, moving dishes and clashing pots while water ran in the background. He seemed to be doing dishes, but the noise sounded too regular for that. Bobby figured he was probably making the extra noise so it didn't seem like he was eavesdropping, which was definitely what he was doing.

"Hey Saint Dane," Bobby called out. "You be good here for a bit while I go out? Courtney should be back soon."

_Crash!_ Cringing, Bobby tried not to imagine the damage the demon was doing. Instead he nodded at his uncle. "He's good. Let's go."

* * *

 

As soon as he stepped into Solara, Bobby was hit with a wave of noise. Several Travelers had been waiting for him to show up, and all started talking at the same time. Questions were thrown at him from all sides, and he was unable to answer or even hear any of them until Press shouted "Guys! One at a time!"

Spader jumped at Bobby, nearly tackling him in a hug. Bobby chuckled, hugging his friend back before letting go.

"Hobey, mate. Don't do that to us again!" Spader admonished. "We were worried sick!"

Aja stomped up to them and punched Bobby in the arm.

"Ow!" he cried. "What, no greeting?"

"Two weeks," she demanded. "Solara suddenly rejuvenates, and you leave us hanging. For two. Weeks." She crossed her arms. "You're lucky I like you, or that would be the least of what I'd do."

Bobby grinned sheepishly. He turned to the others, who were all waiting silently now. They wanted an explanation. He glanced at Uncle Press, who was mirroring Aja's position. He nodded at him, indicating that it was Bobby's show now.

He gulped. No turning back.

"Okay, so you know how this war's been going on a long time, right…?" he started. They only glared in return. _Of course we fucking know_ , their expressions said. He sighed. Time to rip off the band-aid.

He closed his eyes and began talking, laying out all the cards. He started from the beginning. That fateful night at the bar, when he found the heavily inebriated (read: drunk off his _ass_ ) Saint Dane at the bar. He skimmed over the details of their... encounter that night, but gave them the barest bones so they understood that yeah, what happened wasn't the best way to go about that and he knew, so _please_ just leave it at that.

He recounted the past couple of weeks, and how Saint Dane seemed so empty and lost, how he didn't try anything for those first few days. Then, when he did try something, it was only another attempt on his life. He was rushed to the hospital and stuck in therapy. Bobby told them of how much better the demon seemed to be, now that he had people who actually cared about him, and now that he was fully cut off from his darker version of Solara.

He made sure he reiterated that fact: Saint Dane was no longer connected to either Solara. Press chimed in with his evidence, saying that he'd gone to check, and yeah, the other place was completely gone. Bobby told them that he worried for the demon, now that he was pretty much cut off from the afterlife, how he didn't know where Dane would go if he died.

"Please, guys," he begged. "I know the guy has done some pretty shitty things-"

"Now that's an understatement," Gunny grumbled.

"-but he's changed," Bobby continued. "I don't know how I know, I can't explain it, but I feel there's something different about him now. You have to believe me."

Silence. He looked over those assembled, trying to gauge their reactions. Everyone stared at him with varying amounts of disbelief and shock on their faces, speechless at all he'd just revealed. Their unwavering staring was starting to unnerve Bobby, but he couldn't find his words. He subconsciously curled into himself, waiting for something, for someone to lash out.

"You did _what?!"_

And there it was. Bobby's eyes snapped to Loor and he flinched back at the expression on her face. She looked downright _pissed._ Stomping over to him, she dug her finger into his chest.

"You did not tell me you _slept_ with the demon!" she shouted. Bobby tried to pull away from the offending finger, but she grabbed a handful of his shirt and held him in place.

"I didn't think-"

"Of course you did not think," she growled. "That much is obvious. You _never_ think! But _what_ did you not think of, may I ask? That it was not _important?_ " She pushed him away, causing him to stumble. "I may not know as much about emotions as you and the others, but I know that what you have done can only lead to ruin."

Bobby rubbed the now-sore spot on his chest and tried to make excuses, but they sounded weak to even his ears. "Look, that's not what I'm talking about, okay?" he said. "What's important is that Saint Dane was in big trouble and someone needed to do something, and now he's better! He's changed!"

"How can you be sure he changed?" Gunny asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, that demon's one natty actor," Spader added angrily. "You can't trust him!"

Bobby raised his hands placatingly. "No, you guys don't understand-"

"What, that he's acting _good_ and _nice_ and suddenly that negates everything he's done to us? To _you?_ " Aja was getting fired up, usually-neat blonde hair worming its way out of her ponytail.

"How can you forget so easily the horrors he's brought?" Siry chimed in, elbowing his way in front of Spader. "He destroyed Veelox! He killed my father!"

"And now you're pardoning him because you _fell in love,_ " Kasha spat, her fur bristling.

Bobby backed away, trying to put some distance between him and the others. He was starting to feel crowded, like they were closing in on him. He bumped into Loor, who'd been standing behind him stoically, arms crossed.

"And _she_ knew!" Spader yelled, pointing at her. "Loor knew this was happening and didn't tell us!"

"I swore I would stay silent until Bobby was ready," she said, face stony despite the hurling accusations.

"This is kind of important," Alder interjected, not nearly as enraged as the others but still angry. "This is not something to hide from us, especially since it concerns Saint Dane. You should have told us sooner."

"Like hell she should have! Bobby was the one who started this by _sleeping with the enemy_ , why didn't _he_ tell us?"

A chorus of agreements followed Spader's demand, people looking expectantly at Bobby, waiting for his answers, his excuses.

Bobby was sweating, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to calm himself. He wanted to answer them, but it seemed like nothing he could say would convince them that Saint Dane really had changed. If only they would _listen_ , they would know he was telling the truth! But instead they hurled accusations, making his head spin from the force of their hate and absolute distrust of the man.

Press seemed to realize his nephew was in peril and stepped in. "Guys, we have this under control," he said to the Travelers. "Bobby's been handling this pretty well the past two weeks, with mine and Courtney's help. I understand how you all feel, but let's not let this tear us apart."

"How can you expect us to drop this?" Aja demanded. "That demon has nearly destroyed this universe over and over again for the past how many years? And you're telling us to forget about it and go home!"

"Saint Dane has been a thorn in our sides for far too long," Siry added. "I'm not gonna let this go just because you said so."

Gunny nodded along. "Press, Bobby- you know we trust you, but something smells off about this whole ordeal. One minute, you're lobbying for his head on a platter, and now you're defending him. It just doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, what if he's brainwashed you?" Spader jumped up at the idea, going on the defensive and looking at the two of them suspiciously. "What if you're under his control? Huh?"

Press huffed. "I'm not being controlled, and you know that."

"That's what you would say even if you were being controlled!"

"Look, if you would just listen-"

No one would hear it. The Travelers started shouting, demanding that he or Bobby do something, bring Saint Dane here, let them decide his fate. Press was yelling, trying to get them under control. He shouted over the crowd. "This wasn't supposed to be a 'criticize our decisions' meeting, we just wanted everyone up to date-" but no one heard him.

He turned to his nephew, an order for him to step up and help, but stopped short. "Bobby?"

The world was spinning, or at least it seemed that way. Bobby blinked, rubbed his eyes, and stumbled forward. The Travelers in front of him had stopped arguing, looking at him in concern. They swam in front of his eyes, their images blurring together. It felt like they were still shouting, but their mouths weren't moving. Bobby reached a hand out to steady himself, but there was nothing to hold onto. His hand grasped at the open air and fell back to his side as he swayed.

"Guys…?" he asked weakly, and collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me tell you this now. We have one more chapter after this, plus an epilogue, then we're done. Finished.
> 
> I don't think I'm ready to let this story go?
> 
> But I guess that's how it works, huh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks. The end is right around the corner, but this is the final full chapter. 
> 
> I think I'll save the emotional speech for the epilogue. 

 

A sharp, stinging pain on Bobby's cheek is what woke him up. He blinked groggily, looking around as his vision swam into focus. A dark shape was hovering above him. It rose, and Bobby's eyes focused enough for him to see it was Loor. She dusted her hands off and turned to Press, who was standing near.

"Thank you for waking him," he said gratefully.

"It was my pleasure," the warrior girl responded, stepping back into the circle.

As Bobby sat up and looked around, he saw the other Travelers were crowded around him as well. They looked on in concern, their earlier animosity all but gone. They were worried.

"What... just happened?" he asked.

"We were about to ask you the same thing," Press said. He kneeled down in front of his nephew and put a hand to his forehead, checking for fever or illness. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "You passed out on us there for a few minutes."

Bobby yawned and rubbed his temple, where a slow throbbing was starting to form. "Yeah, I think so. I'm just tired is all." He took Press's offered hand and stood, swaying when he let go. Press grabbed his arm to steady him. Bobby shook his head. "I mean, I don't _feel_ sick."

Press watched him, brow furrowed in concern. His eyes darted across Bobby's face, taking in his exhausted features and trying to figure out why. Bobby struggled to maintain eye contact, fatigue pulling on his eyelids. He didn't understand why he was so tired. The only conclusion he could draw was that he'd been getting some pretty crappy sleep lately.

"When did this start?" Press asked.

Bobby cast his sluggish mind back, trying to remember. "About two weeks ago?" he said hesitantly. "Two weeks, give or take. Can't remember exactly, but that seems about right."

"Two weeks…" Press looked contemplative a moment, then snapped upright. His eyes hardened. He let Bobby go, took a step back, and disappeared.

They didn't have much time to be confused, because a moment later he reappeared, the demon Traveler in tow. Saint Dane pulled his arm away, looking affronted, until he realized where he was. Fear bloomed in his eyes and he stepped back from the crowd of hostile Travelers.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, face a stern mask but his eyes and shaking voice betraying his panic.

Press advanced on him, furious. Dane tried to back away but bumped into Alder. Press grabbed his wrist and yanked him towards Bobby, who was confused and concerned and starting to get a little angry at how his uncle was treating the man.

Press pointed at Bobby. "What have you done to him?" he demanded, looking to Saint Dane for his answer.

The demon's eyes flashed with something briefly before closing off. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean!" Press bellowed. "You've been siphoning off Bobby's energy for two weeks! You didn't think we'd notice, but it's kind of hard to not notice when he's _collapsing in front of us!"_

He released Dane, pushing him away, and clenched his fists. "I was just starting to trust you, too," he said, voice nothing but a low growl. "I thought you'd finally changed. But no, it was all a trick this whole time, wasn't it?"

Saint Dane bit his lip and looked away. He didn't answer.

" _Wasn't it?!"_

Dane flinched, and slowly looked up. Tears shimmered at the edges of his icy blue eyes, but didn't fall. He looked at each of the Travelers in turn, gaze passing over them, until it landed on Bobby.

Bobby was in shock. He didn't know what to think. The last couple weeks seemed a blur in his mind, recent revelations making it hard to figure out the truth. The fact that Saint Dane had been stealing his energy-no matter how unbelievable it sounded-threw everything off balance. He thought the man had changed, had grown. But he was back to his old tricks, and Bobby felt devastated.

But nothing he felt compared to the emotions warring on the old demon's face.

Guilt shone off Saint Dane's face so strongly, Bobby felt his breath catch. He was trembling, his teeth chattering despite the warmth of the rejuvenated Solara. Dane was standing, head and shoulders taller than anyone there, yet his entire demeanor screamed _fear_. He seemed so fragile, so scared, and as he took in a shuddering breath to speak, his voice came out sounding as broken as he looked.

"I- I'm sorry."

The others started talking, yelling over each other, but Press waved his hand to silence them. He looked at Dane pointedly, indicating he continue. Dane chewed on his lip, watching for any sign of aggression, and began.

"My Solara is gone, as you know," he said slowly, keeping careful eye contact with Press. "And with it, my source of energy. I felt myself fading, and needed something to maintain my form, to subsist off of. I-I didn't mean to take so much from him, honestly." He fidgeted, twisting the edge of his shirt. "Just what I needed to survive. To keep existing. Bobby is always to happy, so energetic, I didn't see the harm in taking just a little to maintain myself.

"At first, that's all it was. A little." He got this misty look to his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "His energy is so- so potent. So _pure_. I…" He chuckled ruefully. "I became addicted. To it, to him, same difference. Power is addicting, but his, his was _delicious_.

"A little became a little more, and soon I became a glutton, gorging myself on his energy, needing more and more to satisfy myself. Throughout this he never once seemed to change, his absolute vivacity unending, so I thought he was fine. I took more. I-I never noticed, through my greed, what I was doing to him." The look on the demon's face darkened with guilt and he sagged, hanging his head. "I never noticed…"

Dane swayed on the spot and sank to his knees in the grass, his hands pooling in his lap. He stared at his curled fingers, shoulders shaking with barely-repressed emotions. "My selfishness is destroying you, even now. Even as I t-try to change. I'm sorry, I-I…"

Thunder cracked above them. Bobby's head snapped up. The colorful clouds zipping about flashed dangerously, glowing brighter even as he watched. New ones swirled into existence, mingling with others and forming vibrant patterns and patches, like oil on water, before being caught up in the winds and blown away. The dark sky was barely visible, so covered in brilliant, radiant color as it was.

Bobby tore his eyes away from the intense display at the sound of a groan. Saint Dane's head was hanging low, long dark hair obscuring his face and fading quickly to a dull grey. He was still on his knees, and as they watched he seemed to sag even lower, as if gravity were tugging on his body, pulling him into the ground. The clouds flashed again, and the demon violently flinched.

Dane looked up, his eyes glazed over. He turned his face to the heavens and closed his eyes, and Bobby was hit with a sudden realization.

He wasn't tired anymore.

In fact, as the thought occurred to him, Bobby realized he could actually feel the energy flowing into him. He felt hyper-aware of his surroundings, every beat of his heart pulsing through his ears, every prickle on his skin a claw running down his neck. He hadn't realized how bad it had gotten, but the sudden return of all these sensations put his nerves in overdrive, tingling and firing off and making his fingers twitch with the force of the sensations.

Bobby's eyes flew open-he hadn't noticed when they'd closed-and settled on Saint Dane. He gasped; the demon looked pale, lifeless. His hair hung loosely, silvery strands somehow duller than they were mere moments ago. His clothes, usually far too small for a man of his stature, hung off his boney frame. He looked like a skeleton, pallid fingers clenched weakly in his lap. His thin shoulders shook, shivering with a nonexistent chill. Bobby felt his heart clench at the sight, then stop when he realized just what was happening.

A moment too late, he shouted " _Wait, stop!"_

Saint Dane slumped to the ground.

Bobby fell to his knees, catching the demon's head before it hit the grass. "Dane, stop this!" he shouted. "What are you doing? Stop!"

Press rushed forward, ignoring the confused shouting of the other Travelers. "Bobby, what-"

"Uncle Press, _do something!"_ Bobby interrupted, cold panic seeping in as he frantically checked for a pulse. That powerful spark of energy he'd felt was still there, buzzing under his skin like a nervous rash begging to be itched, to be let out. His fingertips burned, making it hard for him to keep a grip on Saint Dane's chin as he turned it upwards, lifting his eyelids for a sign of life. He shook the demon's shoulders.

"Wake up!" Bobby cried, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, making them burn with shame and regret and fear and so many emotions he felt ready to explode. "Please, Dane, don't do this to me. You didn't need to do this. Just wake up. Please! _Please!"_

"Bobby, move." Suddenly Uncle Press was there and Bobby had completely forgotten about everything that wasn't the man lying so terrifyingly still in front of him. He stumbled back, shuffling away on the grass but staying close enough to see. The Travelers crowded behind, silent but imposing, afraid to come any closer and curious and concerned and Bobby felt his head spinning, the world contracting until it was just him, and his uncle, and the man he loved dying in front of his eyes because he was so goddamn _stupid_.

Press pressed two fingers to Saint Dane's neck, then checked his pupils. "He's still alive, though barely," he announced.

Bobby nearly fainted with relief. "What do we do?" he asked, leaning forward on his knees. _Barely_ , he'd said. Barely wasn't much, but it was something, and by _God_ Bobby was going to try his damndest to not let him fall below that.

"I… I don't know," Press responded, still examining Dane for injuries and still not liking what he saw. His brow creased in worry. "I don't know. His energy is diminishing fast, just pouring out. If he keeps this up much longer he'll drain himself into nothing and then, well…" He looked Bobby in the eye, the message clear.

Bobby's breath hitched. "No," he murmured, looking back down at the unconscious demon, shuffling forward again until he could run his fingers through the tangled silver hair. "No, no, no no _no_. That can't- we can't let that happen. There has to be _something_ we can do!"

Press shrugged. "I don't know, Bobby. He's fragile. His spirit is almost depleted. In a few minutes, it'll be gone completely. Unless we can somehow restore it, there's no way we can save him." He put a hand on his nephew's shaking shoulder and said softly "I'm sorry."

A sob ripped its way from Bobby's throat. He hated feeling so helpless. Saint Dane had been getting so much better these past couple weeks, but it was all for nothing. The demon Traveler was dying in Bobby's lap, and there was _nothing_ he could do about it. He felt like throwing something in frustration, but instead curled around Dane's head as if that could protect him from his inevitable end.

He cracked open his eyes and stared down at the demon, memorizing every feature. Dark eyelashes swept across pallid skin, stretched over sharp cheekbones and a sharper nose. Wrinkles lined his face, laugh lines newly starting to form next to his eyes but smoothing out, fading with the rest of him. Thin lips pursed, and Bobby could remember the feel of them, how they seemed to cold and yet so blindingly heated, slightly chapped but smooth while gliding across his. Tears dripped from his eyes onto the pale face inches away, and Bobby's heart stretched, cracked, drummed with the force of his pain and his love and his all-consuming determination and _Saint Dane can't die like this, not after all we've been through, not now, not now,_ _ **please-**_

The hand on his shoulder clenched, bringing him back to himself. Press had shifted closer, staring hard at Dane. He noticed Bobby looking at him questioningly.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" Bobby's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat.

"What you were just doing. I felt… something." Press shook his head, looking back down at the demon on the ground. He brushed the back of his hand against Dane's forehead, but snatched it back a moment later, looking alarmed. "He's-"

Bobby was already checking before the rest of the sentence was out. He pressed a finger to the pulse in Saint Dane's neck and another hand to his forehead, and almost screamed with joy. His heartbeat, which had been a weak flutter not moments ago, was ever so slightly stronger. It was such a minute change it was almost undetectable, but it was there. And his temperature was rising steadily, going up a few degrees even as Bobby was checking.

"What did you do?" his uncle asked, sounding far too worried for what was certainly a good thing.

"I don't know!" Bobby laughed, brushing his thumbs along the man's cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen. "I don't know, but it's working!"

He concentrated again on those feelings he'd felt, the pure determination to not see the demon fade, to see him healthy and happy. He pictured Saint Dane the way he'd been earlier that day, laughing and cheerful and _alive_. He pushed all negative thoughts aside and focused on just that, mentally forcing that image into the man below him. More than anything in this world or any, he wanted Dane _back_.

A piercing pain began to build up behind his eyes, in his head. It traveled down his neck, spreading out into his limbs and leaching his energy. He felt a bone-deep weariness settling in, fogging his mind, but he pushed it away and concentrated on fixing this, fixing him, bringing back the man he so desperately loved. All inhibitions and all cares about himself faded away, and Bobby cupped Dane's face, silently hoping and wishing and praying to any god that might or might not exist that he wasn't too little, too late, that there was still a chance to save him.

Through the buzzing in his _ears-when had that started?_ -he heard words. Angry, worried, frantic shouting. The Travelers.

"Bobby!" Press's concerned tone pulled him out of the haze enveloping his mind. "Bobby, you need to stop!"

"Why?" he asked, suddenly angry. Tears streaked down his face, leaving burning trails in their wake. "Why won't you let me save him? He's changed, I keep trying to tell you guys this! I know the whole energy-sucking thing looks bad, but I'm sure he had a good reason. He was literally dying, and none of us knew it! If I were in his position, I would do the same thing!"

He slapped away his uncle's comforting hand, coming down on his shoulder yet again. "No!" he yelled. "I'm going to do this! I don't know how, I don't care how, I'm going to fucking save Saint Dane and _none of you are going to stop me!"_

" _Bobby!"_

Press's tone was so sharp, so sudden, so _un-Press-like_ , Bobby was shocked into silence. His uncle looked beyond angry, beyond frustrated, fear and doubt and a whole swamp of emotions trying to show themselves through his eyes. He gripped his nephew's shoulders tightly, looking Bobby directly in the eye.

"If you keep this up, you'll die too."

He was so serious, the look on his face so grave, that the world seemed to slow to a crawl. The static in Bobby's ears got louder, buzzing, hissing, drowning out everything, yet he could hear his answer as plain and clear as day.

"I don't care."

And he was struck by the absolute conviction of it. Bobby didn't care if he died to save Saint Dane. He should have been scared from that thought, from how willing he was to throw away his own life, but he didn't care. He would get Dane back. He turned back, fully intending to finish what he started, consequences be damned, but he felt his uncle's hand on his shoulder stop him yet again. He was getting really tired of that.

"No, just-" Bobby sighed and shrugged it off again. "Just stop. Please. Let me do this."

Press watched him carefully, silently. After a moment, he closed his eyes and nodded, giving in. Bobby smiled gratefully and turned back to the unconscious demon. He brushed a lock of grey hair behind Dane's ear, simply looking at the man he'd hated for so long. Those memories seemed faded now, forgotten, replaced by something else. Something newer. Something better. Something that might disappear forever, very soon.

Movement caught his eye. Press had shifted, moving to Dane's other side, and placed a hand on his arm. He looked his nephew in the eye and said nothing, but smiled encouragingly. Bobby smiled back, relief flooding his system.

He looked down, gripping Saint Dane's wrist tightly with one hand, the other on his barely-moving chest. He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing his muscles, letting the energy of Solara seep into him.

In the background, he heard Press speaking, but the words were lost on him. He seemed to be speaking urgently, quickly, with other angry and confused voices joining in and arguing with him. Bobby let it all slip from his mind like water, and breathed deeply.

Energy pulsated within him, new and unknown, yet familiar. His skin tingled, muscles twitching. His heart pounded in his ears, a steady rhythm behind the humming in his mind. The warm air of Solara flowed around him, encompassing him as if in a warm hug. The plane itself seemed to sense what he was doing, encouraging and giving what strength it could.

People sat down around him, brushing his arms and leaning towards the body. He couldn't see them, but he knew it was the other Travelers. Somehow, Press had gotten them to help, however reluctantly. He couldn't focus on what they were doing right now, but he trusted his uncle.

Bobby centered his thoughts on the demon, thinking of their time together and how he'd changed. He remembered all the times they'd spent together these past two weeks; that morning in the kitchen, the night before. The therapist visit and the tragic events that led up to it. The argument with Courtney after she caught them on the couch, the panic attack preceding it that honestly should have clued Bobby into the problems Dane was having.

That first night in the club, which seemed ages ago now. How he remembered seeing _Saint Dane_ of all people, shit-faced and depressed in a dingy little Second Earth bar, ready to commit suicide. He remembered dancing with him to a stupid pop song he'd heard maybe twice on the radio, yet the words and the rhythm came so easily. He remembered in stark detail how desperate to lose himself the demon had been, how he'd begged for Bobby to do something, _anything_ , to ease his pain. He remembered the pain in those blue-white eyes, usually so bright but dulled from centuries of loneliness and failure.

Bobby remembered all this, and thought of how much Saint Dane had changed. Had grown. Had healed.

He focused on the demon he loved so dearly, and he focused on the energy surrounding him, filling him, seeping into his very soul, and he focused on how much he did not want him to die.

He focused, and he _pushed_.

Saint Dane's hand twitched.

Tired blue eyes slowly opened and met his.

The world slowed to a crawl.

"Bobby…?"

Sounds and feelings and everything returned full force, exploding into motion and color as Bobby tackled the demon. He was sobbing, holding the man for dear life as all his terror and worry left him, dissipating in the warm light of Solara and the breathtakingly elated feeling of knowing that he's fine, they're fine, _everything's going to be okay, he's alive and he's here and he's perfect._

Saint Dane's arms came around him, holding him just as hard. Bobby buried his face in his neck, his now-black hair, breathing in his scent and holding his breath, worried that if he let go of it, of him, he'd lose him again and everything they did would be for nothing. He squeezed the demon tightly, feeling his bones shift, his pulse race, everything solid and steady and warm, warmer than the ice cold death he'd been not moments ago, warmer even than he used to be, before then. Almost like a normal human.

_Alive._

Bobby pulled back and suddenly they were kissing, those chapped lips moving against his, opening slightly, a warm and wet tongue tracing his teeth hesitantly. Bobby laughed with relief, breaking the kiss and just pressing their foreheads together, feeling the heat from the living body, the tears of joy streaking down his face. Dane's hands clenched in his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss, and Bobby obliged. Anything for him, anything for the man he thought he'd lost, the man he'd managed to save, the man he loved so much it physically pained Bobby to imagine a world where he didn't exist. He would do _anything_.

The world seemed just a bit brighter, just a bit easier to breathe in, when they pulled apart.

Press helped him up, then held out a hand to Saint Dane. The demon looked at it cautiously, meeting his oldest rival and friend's eyes. Press smiled, encouragingly, apologetically, acceptingly. Dane smiled back, softly, and took his hand. He stood, unsteady, and Bobby took his other hand for reassurance.

The Travelers watched, silent. Dane turned to them. They didn't speak, but it was clear in everyone's eyes that the next move was his to make. They helped him, they healed him, he was back. Now it was his turn.

Dane looked to them each in turn, thinking. Choosing his words carefully. One wrong move and they would attack. Their placation held for now, but that was easily changeable.

"I… I know I have given you no reason to trust me," he began hesitantly. "I have done many terrible things these past few years."

Aja scoffed. "That's an understatement."

Saint Dane ignored the comment and continued. "I have committed unforgivable acts, atrocities beyond imagination. I have destroyed countless lives, entire territories. I have been a monster.

"But I am not asking you to forgive me. I know what I have done, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to fix my mistakes. I will spend the rest of my existence, however long or short it may be, attempting to earn your trust and respect, and trying to repair the damage I have done." He squeezed Bobby's hand, smiling softly at his partner. Bobby returned the smile and squeezed back.

"I know you may not believe me, but I will say it anyway. I am sorry."

There was silence after that. The Travelers looked at one another, unsure how to respond. No one fully believed him, it was obvious, but they could tell his statements were genuine.

Finally, Elli stepped forward. The others watched her, wonder clear in their eyes as she walked up to the demon and carefully lay a hand on his arm. She looked deep into his eyes, her own grey ones sparkling with tears in the colorful light from above.

"I miss my Nevva dearly," she whispered. Dane flinched and looked down, afraid to meet her eyes for fear of seeing the anger and hurt that was surely there. She cupped his face, bringing his eyes to hers again, and smiled.

"I miss her so much, but I have accepted the fact that she is gone. We cannot bring her back." She brushed her thumb across Dane's cheekbone gently, wiping away the tears that slipped down. Guilt shone in his eyes, but he didn't look away.

"She was a sweet child, who always saw the good in everyone," Elli continued, still motherly stroking the demon's cheek. "When she joined you, turning her back on me and the Travelers, I feared the worst. I feared my sweet little girl, who never wanted to hurt even the tiniest fly, had lost her innocence. Now I see I was wrong.

"She saw something in you, beyond your plans. She may have believed in them a little, but that wasn't the real reason she agreed to work with you. No, my dear, sweet Nevva saw something in you no one else did, until now. She saw something in you she thought she could save. That teensy little spark of light left, my dear, sweet, wonderful Nevva thought she could bring back."

Elli clasped Saint Dane's hands between hers, her frail and vein-lined fingers contrasting sharply with his stronger ones.

"She couldn't do it on her own. Young Pendragon managed what my brave Nevva could not, and saved you. She would be proud of him."

Elli leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dane's knuckles. "And I am proud of you."

She stepped away, rejoining the others. Dane was speechless, his eyes shimmering with tears. He looked around at the other Travelers, unbelieving.

They were nodding, agreeing. Accepting.

Gunny's eyes twinkled and he grinned at Spader, who reluctantly shrugged. Aja crossed her arms and huffed, but quirked a wry smile at the demon anyways. Alder laughed, slapping Patrick on the back, who flinched but rubbed his neck, sending an awkward but encouraging thumbs up at Dane. Siry looked hesitant, as did Kasha, but neither of them spoke up, choosing instead to nod at Bobby.

The only person still in denial was Loor. She stood, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Bobby looked at her, silently pleading, and her hardened glare softened. She clearly disagreed with the direction things were going, but for Bobby's sake, she stood down. If he trusted Saint Dane, she would trust him and reserve judgement.

Someone nudged Bobby's shoulder. He looked over to see his uncle smiling encouragingly. With a nod, Press turned to address the Travelers.

"It has been a long and hard war, but now I can confidently say that it's over." Press gestured to Dane, who held his chin up, gaze unwavering as the Travelers watched him. "There have been ups, and there have been some pretty low downs. But we persevered, we made it through, and now we can go home. The enemy is defeated-well, reformed-and the war is over. We're finished, guys." He grinned from ear to ear. "We made it."

They cheered. He waved his hand to calm them down, continuing while he still had momentum. "Now begins the fun part," he said, sobering up a little. "With Solara restored and the dark forces pretty much obliterated, Halla can heal without our help. _Buuut_ there's another option, and I think you'll like it a _lot_ more."

So he told them his plan.

When he finished, the Travelers stood silently, shocked. No one knew what to say in the face of… that.

"You- you can do that?" Spader asked incredulously.

"It won't be the cleanest transition," Press replied, "but yeah. We can do just that."

Hushed murmurs traveled around the group. Wide eyes, unbelieving, stared at the leader, the mentor of so many of them, who had just told them the single biggest piece of news possible at a time like this.

"But…" Patrick struggled to find the words to express his thoughts. "But what about the friends we've made? The bonds we've forged? Will it all just, go away?"

Press shrugged apologetically. "Sorry to say, but yes to that too. Don't worry though, it's only temporary."

He looked around at the assembled Travelers, who were slowly beginning to accept his proposition. There were sacrifices needed to make it so, but it would all be worth it in the end.

"What about Saint Dane?"

Press looked at his nephew, who'd been silent for quite some time. "What about him?" he asked.

"Where will he go?" Bobby thought a minute, then hesitantly added. "Could he… could he come with me?"

Press chewed his lip, thinking. "Feasibly, yes," he finally said. "But it would be a stretch, and a risk. Solara has enough energy for you guys to do this, but with him added on…" He trailed off, shrugging again. "It might work, might not. Only way to tell would be to try, but if it didn't… Well, if it didn't, all you did earlier would be for nothing."

Bobby's brow creased as he turned to the demon. Saint Dane was watching him, a faraway look in his eyes. He focused on Bobby and smiled comfortingly, lacing their fingers together.

"Don't worry, Bobby," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But I want you to come with me!" Bobby protested. "I did all this so you wouldn't leave, and now I'm just gonna go back like nothing happened, and you're gonna stay here?"

Dane ran a finger down the side of Bobby's face, tracing a pattern on his skin and leaving prickles where he touched. "Go," he said, conviction in his tone. "Go live your life, the life you missed out on. Go live, for me. I'll be right here, waiting for you. I promise."

Bobby gulped, but after a moment, nodded. He felt his eyes stinging, but held the tears back for the sake of them both. "I'll miss you," he murmured.

"You won't remember me," Dane whispered.

"I'll still miss you."

Laughter, then Bobby's hand was being brought up to warm lips, a kiss pressed against his knuckles. "Stubborn boy," the demon said, a little of that familiar condescending tone slipping into his voice, overlaid with fondness.

"Always." Bobby pulled him in for another kiss, memorizing the feel of the demon's lips against his own, holding onto the sensation and the smell and everything about the man, wishing he wouldn't have to forget but slowly accepting the fact. "I'll be right back," he said, pulling away. "The blink of an eye. _I_ promise."

He turned to his uncle and nodded, slipping his hand from Saint Dane's. "I'm ready," he said confidently. Dane went to stand next to Press, arms folded behind his back.

Press looked at the gathered Travelers, each of whom was staring at him expectantly, excitedly. A faint buzz of energy was building, anticipation and exhilaration electrifying the air around them. The semicircle of warriors, teachers, victors. Friends. Through thick and thin, in the best and worst of times, they had stuck together. Triumphant, they eagerly awaited what came next.

"Ready?" he asked, raising his arms. Hope shone back in response, from ten sets of eyes ready to see a new world.

" _And so we go_ ," Press whispered, and snapped his fingers.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are folks. The end of an era. It's been a wild ride, but we've finally reached the end.
> 
> I have some words I want to share, but I'll save them for the end. I'm sure you want to read this epilogue first.
> 
> Enjoy.

The door creaked open, old hinges squeaking loudly in the quiet room. Courtney peeked her head in, squinting in the bright light, and stepped inside.

"Why is it so bright in here?" she asked. "You trying to grow geraniums or something?"

Bobby laughed. "Turn the lights off if it bothers you so much."

Courtney flipped the switch and the room plunged into darkness, the only light left coming from a small table lamp. She closed the door behind her, the soft _click_ the only sound permeating the silence. She sat down in a chair next to Bobby.

"So, what brings you here at this hour?" Bobby asked, setting the book he was reading down next to the lamp and folding his hands in his lap.

"I don't know," Courtney answered after a moment. "I just... felt like I needed to be here tonight. That's all."

"I'm not complaining," Bobby joked, reaching out to clumsily pat her hand where it rested on the edge of his bed. "I'd never pass up a chance to chat with my best friend."

Courtney laughed, shaking her head. "Don't you lie to me, Bobby Pendragon. That title was always reserved for Mark and you know it."

The corner of Bobby's lip quirked up sadly. "Yeah, it was."

He looked down at his hands, pooled on the covers in his lap. The sight would never be a familiar one. It was always a shock to see how much they'd changed, how much _he'd_ changed. He would never get used to it.

Once upon a time, Bobby could palm a basketball in one hand. Now any pictures he took were blurry beyond recognition, food always spilling off his spoon or his fork. That is, when he was allowed to feed himself. Wrinkles and protruding veins now criss-crossed his hands, wine-colored spots a stark contrast to the greying tone of his skin. His knuckles were swollen with arthritis. The only reason he wasn't in constant pain was the medicines the doctors had him hooked up to 24/7. It had gotten to the point where he told them to take the heart monitor away. He didn't care for its constant beeping, telling him something he already knew intimately.

Fact of the matter was, Bobby was dying.

He didn't mind, not really. He'd lived a rather full life, if he did say so himself. Gone to college, made some great friends, got a job he loved and enjoyed doing. More than most people had a chance to ever get. He was forever grateful for whatever force helped make his life a good one.

Surprisingly, the job he'd gotten wasn't in basketball. That had been fun while it lasted, but after he got out of high school his love of the sport faded. He turned instead to creative writing, making up stories that ranged from whimsical and strange to realistic and eye opening. He made a career of it, selling them to newspapers and magazines, and soon had a comfy cushion of money to live off of. He was pretty content with how things turned out.

Well, mostly.

The one thing he'd wanted all his life but never managed to snag, was a family.

All throughout high school, he had honestly thought Courtney was the one for him. The beautiful Courtney Chetwynde with her long brown hair and stunning grey eyes, who could win anyone over with a single look. She sure had won Bobby over, first time she'd kicked his ass. Then and there, he thought she was the one.

But something happened in high school. He had finally gotten the courage to ask her out (or rather, get asked out. She was always the braver of the two), and they were happy.

Until they weren't. Over time, they realized they weren't quite meant to be. They fit together damn near perfectly, all her rough and jagged edges slotting together with his, but it never felt _right_. They decided to put their relationship on hold to figure out what was wrong, and just never started again. Things finally felt right between them; not as partners, but as friends. They stayed that way, happy all throughout college and into their adult lives.

Besides, Courtney was much happier with Mark. And honestly? Bobby didn't mind. He never thought they would work together so beautifully, but they did. They had their fights, their inconsistencies, but they worked through them and came out on the side all the better for it.

The only thing Bobby was jealous of was that they'd managed to find that perfect equilibrium together so easily. He'd spent years after his peaceful breakup with Courtney looking for someone to fill that part of him. To make him feel the way they felt about each other. He'd dated several people over the years, but no one ever really... fit. Once he hit thirty, Bobby gave up. He decided that if love was going to find him, it had to come looking for him itself. He was tired.

Now, at age eighty-six, with his two best friends in the world having lived full lives with each other, Bobby wondered if fate truly meant for him to be alone.

"Oh," Courtney said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. "Allie, Claire, and Teddie send their regards."

"Couldn't make it back from Massachusetts?" Bobby asked.

"Nah, the little ones are starting school soon, remember?" Courtney shrugged. "They needed to stay close to home."

"Oh." Bobby looked down, studying the lines on his hands. "Well, when you get back, tell 'em Uncle Robert wished he could'a saw them."

"Guilt trip them into coming next time, huh?" Courtney joked.

"Always."

They lapsed into silence, unspoken thoughts tangible between them. They both know there wouldn't be a next time. Bobby was running out of time, fast. He was fine with it, though. They all had lives, lives that moved on regardless of births and deaths and whatnot. At least he got to see Courtney.

"I wish Mark was here," Courtney whispered, her throat tight.

"Yeah, me too." Bobby squeezed her hand comfortingly, lacing their fingers together. She looked up at him and smiled through shimmering eyes. She wiped away the unshed tears and took a deep breath.

Before she could speak, a voice from the doorway cut in.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Their heads whipped around to the open door. Neither of them had heard it open, nor had they heard someone enter.

A man, mid forties, with brown hair and a long brown coat over worn work clothes, stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. He carried a box under his arm that he set on the end of the bed. "Hello Bobby, Courtney."

"Who are you?" Courtney asked, sitting up in her chair. "How do you know our names?"

"Don't worry, I'm not here to rob you or anything," the man joked. "I'm just here on delivery duty."

"You do know it's way past visiting hours," Bobby said, though with no real malice in his voice. The man looked familiar, but he couldn't place his face.

"Oh, I know," the man replied. "That's why I came when I did."

Bobby stared hard at the man, searching through his memories for him. His name was just on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He seemed so familiar...

"What's in the box?" Courtney asked, interrupting his thoughts. Bobby wanted to shout as the name slipped away from him.

The man lifted the lid of the box and pulled out a tightly rolled bundle of papers. They looked ancient, tied with leather twine.

"I brought a story."

Courtney looked irate. "Look here, young man," she began. "Mr. Pendragon isn't well. He doesn't need to be bothered by-"

"I didn't mean to bother you, the man smoothly interrupted again. "I am truly sorry. I'll leave, but there's one thing I want you to do for me."

He handed Bobby the roll of parchment. "I want you to read."

Bobby took the papers. His fingers tingled as they came in contact with the rough fibers. He examined them closely. They felt familiar too, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. It was just a bunch of old paper.

"Why?" he asked as the man closed the lid and pushed the box farther up the bed, where he and Courtney could easily reach it.

"Just trust me," the man said, dark eyes twinkling. He stepped towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Courtney asked.

"Gotta run," the man said. "I've got nine more of these to deliver. I'll be back, though, when you're done. Promise."

"Gee, could you be any more mysterious?" Courtney said sarcastically.

"Oh, he most definitely could," came a new voice from the doorway.

A tall, slender man stepped through, just behind the first one. He nudged him aside, smirking in fond exasperation. "You haven't seen him at his worst. Even puts _my_ theatrics to shame."

"You're one to talk, _Saint_ ," the first man joked, pushing him playfully.

Bobby's breath hitched. If the first man felt familiar, this newcomer practically punched him in the gut with the force of the feeling. Long black hair cascaded down his back, framing a sharp face with even sharper eyes. Those eyes turned on him, and Bobby's heart stopped. Ice-white eyes, so familiar it physically hurt, but his name was just out of reach. Bobby cursed his deteriorating mind.

The second man smiled warmly at Bobby. "Trust me," he said, his deep voice low and melodic and so achingly familiar, filled with such a strong sense of fondness that Bobby trusted him immediately. "You're going to want to read those journals."

"They're journals?" Courtney asked, reminding Bobby that she was there and he wasn't alone in the room with this mysterious man. She took the bundle from him and examined it as well. "Whose are they?"

"You'll find out," the first man said, crossing his arms. "Just read."

He stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the dark hallway. The second man watched him go, then turned back to Bobby. There was this look in his eyes, an undecipherable emotion that was painful to look at. His bright blue eyes met Bobby's, and he made a decision.

He came to the edge of the bed, away from the door, and stood opposite of Courtney.

"I know you may not remember me," the man said, "but I just want you to know that... that I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

He gently slipped his hand into Bobby's, brushing his thumb across his knuckles briefly before letting go and backing away. He ran his hand along the box that the other man left as he went to the doorway and stood in it.

"You might want to read that soon," he said, inclining his head towards the journal in Courtney's hand. Bobby got the implication and nodded, which seemed to satisfy the other man.

He turned to leave, shutting the door behind him, but stopped. "I look forward to seeing you again, Bobby," he added quietly. The door shut with a gentle _click._

Bobby's head was buzzing. His hand still tingled where the other man had held it. He slowly curled his fingers, and if he concentrated, he could still feel the man's long, slender fingers intertwined with his own. That touch, that simple action felt so damn _familiar,_ and it hurt Bobby so much that he couldn't remember this man that obviously meant so much to him.

"Bobby?" Courtney's voice cut through his thoughts as it always did, the voice of reason in his muddled and chaotic world. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Lemme see that journal."

She handed it to him and he carefully untied the twine, unrolling the ancient parchment. It crackled in his hands, but held firm.

Courtney was digging around in the box, pulling out random things and setting them on the bed. "This is quite the arrangement," she commented, showing off some of her finds. There were more rolls of papers, some of them like the first, and some rubbery and strangely green. She pulled out a stack of bound books and set them aside, along with a couple of silver devices with a series of color-coded buttons. None of the items were all too similar, yet all of them felt familiar to Bobby.

"Courtney...?" he said after a moment. "I think we should start reading."

She looked at him and nodded, understanding. "Sure."

"I need your help though, my eyes aren't what they used to be."

She laughed, but agreed. "Alright then. Scoot on over, I'll sit next to you."

She climbed up onto the hospital bed and settled in against her oldest friend's side. He helped her unroll the brown parchment fully, feeling the rough paper against his finger. They flattened it out in their laps. Courtney pushed her reading glasses down onto her nose and cleared her throat.

"I don't know why," Bobby added before she began, "but I'm pretty excited to hear this story."

Courtney smiled and clasped his hand with hers. "Me too."

She smoothed her hand across the scroll and in a clear, confident voice, began to read.

_"Journal number one. Denduron. I hope you're reading this, Mark..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first thing's first. I would love to thank my dear beta and close friend, lordsmellymort, for being there through thick and thin and editing this story into a half-conceivable mess. She wasn't here for the last few chapters, for which I'm eternally apologetic, but as soon as she's back on her feet again we'll go through and fix some things. Nothing major, though. Hope you feel better soon Kelly!
> 
> Thank you to JMProfio, for whom without, this story wouldn't even exist. To believe it all started as a parting gift, right? But hey, without this story, our friendship wouldn't even exist either. You have become one of my closest friends through this and other things, and I'm so glad for that. Now go finish that crossover story, slacker.
> 
> Can't forget all my fans on Fanfiction.net! YokaiAngel, Jay Foren, and Lynnxrider: thank you so much for your words of encouragement and praise! Without you guys, I probably would have forgotten about this story several times. I've been rather busy, haha.
> 
> Last words, okay. Man, I can't believe it's finally over. It's been what, almost a year since I started this? It's been such a journey, my biggest one yet, and I wouldn't trade any second of the frustration and writer's block and heartbreak for anything.
> 
> It feels like watching a child grow up and move out, finishing a story. Posting this feels like watching them go to the door, turn around, and give one last little wave before heading out into the big world. I'm actually tearing up, thinking about it. This is the end, folks. This is it.
> 
> We made it.
> 
> We won.
> 
> Hobey-ho, fellow Travelers. I'll see you on the other side.
> 
> \- birdybirdnerd, signing off


End file.
